


The Sayonese Affair

by shell_and_bone



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Politics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autofellatio, Canon-Typical Racism, Come Sharing, Communication Failure, Dark Comedy, Deception, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Group Sex, Loyalty Kink, M/M, Marsupial Sex, Master/Pet Elements, Multi, Non-Consensual Elements, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Roleplay, Tentacle Sex, Uncomfortable Conversations, Under-negotiated Kink, Voyeurism, Xeno, court intrigue, fake slavery, spousal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell_and_bone/pseuds/shell_and_bone
Summary: A year afterThe Fall of Centauri Prime, Londo works to restore his planet and get his people off to a good start as members of the Interstellar Alliance. Not everyone approves of the changes he’s undertaking. When a sensitive negotiation session gets off on the wrong foot due to G’Kar’s questionable deference to the emperor, Londo is forced to weigh his personal integrity against the potential for conflict between the Republic’s core worlds and the border colonies. G’Kar has plans of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If the tags I’ve used pose concern for you and you don’t mind spoilers, please click down to the endnotes where I provide a more informative summary of how these elements factor into the plot. I’ll be doing this for every chapter so those who decide they aren’t comfortable with where things are heading can nope out if they want to. If it makes a difference, a great deal of what happens in this fic is intended to be uncomfortable for the characters in question and is treated as such. My goal here was to walk a fine line between a fun kinky story and an exploration of the uncomfortable territory that exists between these characters as a result of their complicated power dynamic. Ultimately, it’s up to the individual reader as to whether I’ve achieved that balance for them, so YMMV, and check out the endnotes if you want a better idea of what’s going on.

G’Kar winced when the doors to the audience chamber slammed open. Emperor Mollari II emerged, fuming, with a throng of nattering courtiers at his heels. G’Kar set down the pen and parchment he’d been using to pass the time until the appointment was through. Evidently Londo’s first meeting with the Sayonese delegation had not gone well. 

With a wave of his hand, Londo dismissed the courtiers. G’Kar watched as they dispersed like a flock of birds, darting off in various directions. Prepared for the worst, G’Kar took a deep breath and rolled up his parchment. But before G’Kar could place a steadying hand on his shoulder, Londo whipped his head around, levelled a hard glare at G’Kar, and proclaimed, “This is your fault.”

“What happened?” G’Kar took a step back. He’d been expecting anger—the loud, demonstrative, but ultimately aimless kind that usually followed an unsuccessful negotiation. He hadn’t expected seething rage, least of all directed at him. 

Londo gestured vaguely as he made to explain. “This… this… you! The delegation! Everything!” He snarled, his shoulders sagging, then he took off down the hallway, muttering to himself. 

“—should have expected this. I should have known,” Londo was grumbling when G’Kar caught up to him. “Great Maker, these off-worlders. How could they possibly think…”

“What, Mollari?” G’Kar pressed, matching his pace to Londo’s. “What did they say?”

“That I am an impostor. A murderer. A usurper to the rightful throne of my predecessors,” he listed, shaking his head in disbelief. Londo must have noticed the way G’Kar’s eyes flared, because he slowed down and sighed. “Not in so many words, G’Kar. If they had, I could have them escorted from the palace at the slightest…” He snapped his fingers. 

“Or thrown out of an airlock, as President Sheridan used to say,” G’Kar added. 

For that, Londo managed to dredge up a smile. “Yes. That would be most satisfying. But…” Londo tucked his hands behind his back, hastening his pace through the halls. “Unfortunately, we cannot go arresting noble delegates for minor breaches of protocol or, or… calculated missteps in etiquette. No matter if it is a transparent attempt to undermine our authority.” 

Londo spoke in ‘we’s and ‘our’s occasionally, which had bemused G’Kar before he’d come to understand what it signified. Though the lofty language suited him well enough for audiences, G’Kar had since discovered that when Londo slipped into the plural in private conversation, the situation was about to get very ugly. “There must be something you can do,” said G’Kar, more placating than encouraging. Offering suggestions was of no use when Londo was in a mood like this.

When they reached an intersection of corridors, Londo grabbed G’Kar’s arm to guide him around the corner. “Pah! There is no escape. Oh yes, I made sure of that when I…” A young woman in servant’s garb approached from the opposite direction, lowering her eyes and inclining her head toward them. “When I accepted the position,” Londo finished after she’d passed. He lowered his voice surreptitiously. “Of course, our re-induction into the Alliance didn’t help, to say nothing of the matter of reparation payments…” 

G’Kar took the lead as they neared the royal suites. One of his most basic duties as a bodyguard was to secure Londo’s path in case an attacker lay in wait beyond the next door. The routine second nature to him by now, he ushered them both inside, subtly inspecting the entranceway while Londo continued rambling behind him. 

“—and worst of all? I have a Narn for an adviser!”

“By G'Quan, what is the universe coming to?” G’Kar tossed back in the same scandalized tone before he’d fully processed Londo’s meaning. He whirled around. “Wait. They think I am your… adviser?”

Londo nodded gravely. 

“A ridiculous notion. Even when you ask for my advice, you don’t take it.” 

G’Kar had expected a chuckle or one of his self-deprecating smiles, but Londo’s scowl only deepened. Satisfied that they were safely alone in the emperor’s personal wing of the palace, he could risk more obvious affection. G’Kar moved to place a hand on Londo’s shoulder—but Londo recoiled from the touch. “Sayonis is a remote, barely habitable world at the edge of our territory. Maker knows what rumours and distortions have taken hold since…” His anger renewed, Londo levelled a hard glare at G’Kar and jabbed a finger to his chest. “And what you said in there did not exactly cure them of their delusions.”

G’Kar lifted his brow, confused, until he remembered what Londo had said as he exited the audience chamber. “What are you talking about?” he protested. “I didn’t speak a word to the delegates! I was outside guarding the outer doors the whole—”

“Before that.” Londo broke in. “When you escorted me into the hall—you called me ‘Mollari’.”

“I did no such thing! Or… wait.” G’Kar thought back, unable to recall what Londo was referring to. “Even if I did, how do you know the delegates overheard?”

“Believe me, G’Kar, you said it loud enough for the entire room to hear. The servants, the courtiers, _and_ the delegates.“ Londo averted his gaze and made a face like he’d tasted spoiled meat. “There was… snickering.”

The hand Londo had extended toward him now clung to G’Kar’s jacket. G’Kar let out a breath, the immediate impulse to defend himself fading before the greater urge to assuage Londo’s worries and put the issue to rest. G’Kar had a limited tolerance for politics, even when he’d spoken on behalf of his people as a member of the Babylon 5 security council. He could hardly imagine a duller way to spend an afternoon than listening to lengthy discussions of Centauri internal policy, so he usually elected to wait outside. Now, he found himself wishing that he’d sat in on that meeting, if only to understand just what had Londo so deeply unsettled. For the moment, all he could do was take Londo by the hand and lead him from the entranceway to the bedchamber. 

Londo took a seat at the vanity as soon as they entered the room. G’Kar gave Londo’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then swept past him into the adjoining study to put away his writing implements. Swinging his jacket over a chair, G’Kar took the opportunity to undress, emerging from his sanctuary barefoot and covered by a loose robe worn open to the chest. Londo hadn’t moved from where he’d left him—seated in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection, one hand lingering at the emperor’s pendant fastened around his neck. His temper exhausted, Londo looked almost lost, his eyes barely flickering at G’Kar’s reflection as he circled behind him to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“I still don’t understand why this troubles you,” G’Kar said as the silence stretched out. “As you said, these are nobles from the fringes of your society, misinformed as well as uncouth. Why should you have to care what they think?”

“Because,” Londo started, finally turning around to fix G’Kar with an incredulous look, “it is critical to the future of the Republic that Sayonis accepts our reforms on foreign trade.”

G’Kar groaned, fed up with vague policy wrapped in grandiose language. “Yes, but why? We are not arguing across the table on Babylon 5 anymore, Mollari. You can say what you mean.”

Facing the mirror again, Londo followed G’Kar’s reflection as he began undressing. “The galaxy is entering a new age, G’Kar, and I mean to bring my people into it. To be part of the Alliance means to bolster our ties to other worlds, strengthen our allegiances, and participate in commerce. If my people ever hope to rebuild and recover from what has happened, we cannot do so from within our own borders.”

G’Kar was about to point out that he was the one who’d originally penned the Alliance’s principles before he realized that Londo would probably hold him to blame for that, too.

“Several months ago, we received a proposal from the Brakiri. As one of the League worlds to whom we currently owe reparations, they have offered to lighten our burden in exchange for an exclusive trade contract. The contract stipulates that if we begin purchasing quantium 40 from refining facilities under their jurisdiction, they will waive the remainder of the payments.” Londo raised an eyebrow. “A most generous offer, yes?”

“I’d say so,” said G’Kar. 

Londo bent over to tug off his boots, glancing back to G’Kar every so often. “The trouble is that up until now, Sayonis has provided the Republic’s supply of quantium 40. The extraction operations there have remained in the hands of the Piro and Ilyashi families for generations and through it, they have amassed a substantial fortune,” Londo went on, resentment leaking into his tone. “Oh yes, they are the great pioneers, etching out a living on the edge of civilization, fuelling the Republic’s expansion while the nobles back home grow soft and meek.” He flashed G’Kar a rueful smile. “True Centauri.”

G’Kar rolled his eyes. “I understand why they would be opposed to the reforms you have in mind. What I don’t understand is why that _matters_.” G’Kar hesitated, suddenly regretting that he’d broached the topic. “My opinion of your tyrannical model of government aside… what is the point of being an emperor with unlimited authority over your subjects if you cannot order them to carry out your will?”

“It is not—“ Londo started out forcefully, but faltered as soon as he met G’Kar’s eyes. “It is not that simple.” He stood for a moment, dragging the chair around to face G’Kar. “These border lords have always been the rebellious type, and their word carries much clout with other resource colonies. If we force Sayonis to cease operations, rumour could carry that we are looking to import more of the Republic’s resources from foreign governments.” 

“But…” G’Kar pursed his lips. “You do intend to begin importing more of the Republic’s resources from foreign governments. Pulling back from colonies that mercilessly exploit their worlds in the name of resources was one of the conditions of the Republic’s re-acceptance into the Alliance.”

“Of course I do,” Londo assured him. “But it must be done slowly and with great care, and certainly not until our government and military has recovered the strength to… enforce such reforms.”

“I see.” G’Kar paused, letting the weight of the situation settle between them for the span of a breath. _Civil war_. Londo had not said it, but the prospect loomed heavy behind his words. “I assume your proposal includes some form of reasonable compensation for their financial losses?”

“Of course it does!” Londo nearly shouted. “Eventually, as our economy recovers, anyway. But it wouldn’t matter, even if we were in a position to make those assurances. It isn’t money they’re after—it’s leverage. Over the years, the colonists of Sayonis have used their monopoly on quantium to exert far more political influence than their status warrants. Fewer taxes, more ships for their garrison, more representation in the Centaurum—that sort of thing.” Londo paused for a moment, then leaned closer in his seat. “The last time they were dissatisfied with one of the emperor’s decrees, they cut off the Republic’s entire supply of quantium until their demands were met. The emperor sent in the military, but the ships suffered fuel shortages before they were able to resolve the situation, and the emperor was ultimately forced to give in to their demands—most humiliating.” He shot G’Kar a sidelong glance. “And their egos have only grown since.”

G’Kar wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh at that, but a smile did sneak across his face. “It sounds like this offer from the Brakiri is not so much a necessary sacrifice as it is a long awaited opportunity.” 

“Something like that,” Londo replied, unashamed to admit it. “It would be… how do the humans say it? Hitting two birds with one stone?”

Normally, G’Kar would not have cared enough to let himself get swept up in these petty intrigues. Centauri feuding with other Centauri over resources that usually did not belong to them in the first place. But to see Londo so worked up, one would think the world had stopped turning. “It would seem that what you have to do is convince the delegates that transferring their industry to the Brakiri is in their best interests,” G’Kar suggested.

Londo narrowed his eyes, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “You think I don’t know that? The question is how.” 

“How should I know? I am only your bodyguard, after all,” he answered with a dramatic shrug. “And you are Centauri. Here I thought your people were supposed to be the experts in this area.” One side of his robe had fallen over his shoulder, but he didn’t move to pull it up just yet. Even if nothing he said stood a chance of improving Londo’s disposition, that did not preclude comfort of other kinds. 

“Plotting and scheming?” Londo scoffed, paying no attention to G’Kar’s silent invitation. “Contrary to popular belief, we do not emerge from the womb planning the demise of our siblings.” He slumped in his seat. “Besides, the next meeting is tomorrow. How will I ever—”

“Do you want my honest opinion?” G’Kar cut in. His eyes roamed over the sight of Londo stripped down to his shirtsleeves, letting the hunger show in his smile. 

Londo nodded, his eyes widening in response to the sudden intensity. 

“What you need is a show of force,” G’Kar said, leaning out from under the fall of curtains. “From all that you’ve told me, what seems clear is that these people respect strength and strength alone. If it is as you say, and they think you weak and cowardly, then you must demonstrate otherwise.” 

Londo almost looked affronted for a moment, perhaps surprised to hear such a suggestion coming from G’Kar of all people. “Is that it? No grand lecture about the value of diplomacy and compromise?”

“It sounds as if they are the ones refusing to compromise. Not you,” G’Kar replied. “Diplomacy is achieved on the basis of mutual respect. Until these nobles are made to recognize the fact of your leadership and the legitimacy of your reign, you cannot hope to influence their perspective.” 

“There, you see? So it is a hopeless situation, hm?” 

Though he spoke with almost cheerful disregard, G’Kar could hear the worry underneath. “Mollari, whether you choose to believe it or not, you are the reigning emperor of the Centauri Republic. I have every confidence you will come up with something.” At that, G’Kar spread his hand across the sheets, inviting Londo to join him. “And I promise, tomorrow you will hear nothing but ‘majesty’s from me,” he added for good measure. 

Londo did not appear entirely convinced, but something eased in his manner. About to sit beside him, G’Kar grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into his lap. Londo didn’t protest, spreading his legs comfortably over G’Kar’s hips. “I suppose now you expect me to say I appreciate your brutal honesty?” Londo asked. The question was genuine, but there was a humour in his tone that demanded no immediate answer. 

“No, Majesty,” G’Kar said, managing, for once, to say the word with a straight face. He tilted his head to the side and brought a finger to caress Londo’s lips. “I expect you to kiss me.”

Londo did as he asked and more. He claimed his lips with a ferocity that didn’t let up until G’Kar’s back hit the sheets. Londo’s teeth raked over his lips, a deserved punishment for his earlier lack of deference. It was all G’Kar could do to lay back, submit, and enjoy. It had been a long time—too long—since G’Kar had riled him up this viciously. 

When they broke for air, Londo was crouched overtop of him, with a knee between G’Kar’s outstretched legs. He looked flustered for a moment, then he lowered his voice and said, “I thought you hated calling me that.” Londo nudged his thigh up to feel the erection barely hidden under G’Kar’s robe. He raised a hand to strip away the fabric from G’Kar’s shoulders. G’Kar didn’t protest; he’d let Londo have his way.

“Most of the time,” G’Kar said. He shrugged out of the rest of the garment, leaving himself bare from the waist up. “When we’re in public and my failure to do so might get me skewered by one of your more obedient guards.” Taking advantage of his half-dressed state, G’Kar slid his hands up the sides of Londo’s half-buttoned shirt. The smallest pressure was all it took for the remaining buttons to come apart, exposing the tips of his brachiarti. “But in private? Oh no. On the contrary, it pleases me very much.” G’Kar sat up for a second kiss, not so accidentally rubbing his erection against Londo’s thigh. 

Londo didn’t blanch or pull away like he used to. It had never been from fear or lack of want—far from it. But it had taken time before Londo had ceased to view G’Kar’s body as wholly other. Now, after years together, he handled him eagerly and with confidence. He kissed along G’Kar’s jaw and throat, edging closer so G’Kar could find a snug place for his cock against his inner thigh. “That sounds terribly unwise,” he said. “You wouldn’t want the position to... how do you put it? Go to my head?”

G’Kar’s breath caught with a laugh. “Why not? If you are to impress the delegates tomorrow, you could do with a little more arrogance.” Hands at Londo’s hips, he slipped between shirt and skin, gently massaging his stomach and working his way up. “Think of this as practice.” Fingers spread, G’Kar squeezed his sides, those wickedly sensitive glands between his brachiarti that never failed to make Londo go limp in his arms. 

Londo’s eyes fluttered closed as he sank against G’Kar, softly moaning curses against his shoulder. “Bastard...” he hissed, even while his back arched and his brachiarti wound around G’Kar’s wrists. 

“Yes, Majesty?” he asked, curious how far he could push this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Londo so desperate. Chest to chest they lay, in a tangle of clothes and brachiarti. G’Kar carefully extracted one arm from the fray to cup Londo’s chin. “As always, I am at your service. Tell me what you’d like.” He brushed a thumb along the flushed line of his bottom lip, enticing them to open. Normally, Londo needed no encouragement to speak, no matter his state of arousal, but just now, he might have been lost for words. 

“I want—“ G’Kar pressed the pad of his thumb against the point of Londo’s sharp canine. Londo jerked back. “What I want is for you to start using your mouth instead of your hands, if only so you would stop talking,” he said, very stern now, but with his organs writhing against G’Kar’s chest, it made for an unconvincing display. A part of him wanted to do exactly as Londo asked; a likely brach wrapped neatly around his wrist, the tip nestled in his palm. “I am well aware of the meaningless icon that has become of the Centauri throne, and what mockery it is that I should end up occupying it. There is no need to remind me at every opportunity, G’Kar.”

G’Kar blinked. “Don’t tell me you are taking this seriously, Mollari. It’s only a bit of fun,” he said, trying his best to sound reassuring while he ignored the eager throbbing of his cock. 

“I suppose you’d say the same for your earlier remarks at my expense, hm?” 

“Believe me when I say I’ve learned my lesson about undermining your Majesty’s authority in front of off-worlders.” Attempting to return to their earlier playful mood, he placed a kiss at the corner of Londo’s mouth. “But if you must know, in my humble and inconsequential opinion, it is the throne that is the mockery. The unchecked power, your incestuous royal lines, and all the wrongs that have been committed in its name. But not necessarily the person who occupies it.” He met Londo’s eyes and smiled. 

Londo bit his bottom lip as he regarded G’Kar. “Is that how it is? You would rather it be me than anyone else.” That broke the tension. Londo chuckled under his breath. “At times, I find I share the sentiment.”

“Mn,” G’Kar hummed, enjoying the moment, the unexpected sincerity, and the warmth of Londo’s body over his own. There had been many moments like this since he’d been appointed as Londo’s bodyguard—conversations that began over dinner and ended at some indecent hour of the morning, long voyages through hyperspace to visit the numerous Centauri worlds and colonies with only one another for solace. Lately, though, life at the royal court had been so hectic and tiresome that whenever they stole a moment for themselves, all they wanted was a few hours of sleep. 

He cupped Londo’s cheek with one hand, and with the other, stroked the flared tip of the brach nestled in his palm, savouring every pleasured exhale. “I may not know the pressures and perils of rulership as intimately as you do, but I understand more than you think—forced into a role one is unprepared for, a role one may even think antiquated or unnecessary. It feels...” G’Kar stifled a laugh and tugged Londo’s shirt away from his shoulders, “like clothes that don’t fit.” He kissed every inch of exposed flesh, working his way down Londo’s collarbone. “I couldn’t stand it. It itched and chafed in the most uncomfortable places. Exposed my weaknesses, brought out my flaws. When others looked at me, I could no longer recognize myself in their eyes. What I did—the only thing I could do, was to throw it aside and walk away.” 

“How convenient for you,” Londo said. “It is far past the time when I had that luxury.” 

“But there was a time when you could have—and you didn’t.” G’Kar raised the brach he’d been stroking to his lips and kissed the tip. 

“Are you trying to say that you admire me, G’Kar? For doing what you could not?” The brach flicked sharply against G’Kar’s chin, a conscious gesture, and a slightly admonishing one at that. “Consider your point taken and spare us both the embarrassment of straining the metaphor any further. Next you’ll be telling me that white is my colour.”

G’Kar giggled. “It isn’t. But who am I to question your Majesty’s tastes?” Then he flipped Londo over, pinned him against the bed, and kissed him. A muffled yelp of surprise was all Londo could manage before he surrendered, parting his lips, spreading his legs. He kissed the corners of Londo’s mouth. “I’ll gladly stop, if that is what you wish, but surely after a day of veiled insults and false flattery, isn’t it about time somebody honoured you _properly_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Londo is facing a sensitive political situation with a delegation of backwater (but influential) Centauri nobility who question his claim to the throne and need to be won over to avoid dividing the Republic further. In particular, they object to the manner of Londo’s ascension, the way he dragged the Republic into the ISA, and the fact that he’s got a Narn “advisor”. After the first meeting with the delegation doesn’t go well, Londo is upset and takes some of it out on G’Kar, blaming his casual irreverent behaviour for contributing to the delegates’ attitudes. G’Kar comforts him, and jokingly initiates a bit of emperor/servant play in the privacy of their bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, check the endnotes for a spoiler-y summary if you need more information about how the tags factor into the plot before reading.

Though customs varied across the galaxy, and even locally among the various Centauri worlds, common wisdom dictated that it was rude to arrive late to a meeting. In Londo’s estimation, to keep the emperor of the Centauri Republic waiting could only be a crude attempt at blasphemy. Londo had forgone the courtiers and all the pomp and pageantry that usually accompanied his appointments, instead seating himself at one end of an empty table in one of the palace’s lavish reception rooms. If the Sayonese delegates did not care to watch their tongues, then Londo did not care to give them an audience. 

A clamour at the door announced their arrival. After a brief exchange with the two guards stationed at the entrance, one of the guards stepped inside. “Majesty. Lords Mehen Piro and Antaro Ilyashi of Sayonis, at your service,” heralded the guard with a deep bow. Londo set down his drink as his guests entered. 

Lord Piro was the older of the two—a stout man of the same generation as Londo, except his hair had gone entirely to grey, from his sculpted crest to the curled moustache and wisp of beard at his chin. The only feature differentiating him from the dozens of other nobles of the court were his clothes, an elegant but dated style, festooned with more jewelry than the most extravagant homeworld nobility would deem tasteful. But even Lord Piro looked drab next to his companion. Antaro Ilyashi, the young head of his household, seemed to catch all the light in the room. With a sweeping crest worn too high for his status, and a marvelous jacket of an iridescent leather-like material likely native to his world, he evoked the image of a strutting _sarocca_ bird at the height of mating season. For all the gaudy trappings, Londo could not find it in his hearts to disapprove; it was exactly the sort of thing he himself would have coveted as a young man. 

Both delegates peered skeptically around the room, as if surprised to see the emperor anywhere other than a formal audience chamber, where a bow in the general direction of the throne would suffice. “Greetings, gentlemen,” Londo said. He smiled at them, but did not stand up. Instead, he extended a hand. Ilyashi must have sensed that something was expected and looked to Piro for guidance. Piro shook his head and gave Ilyashi a little push forward. At his companion’s urging, Ilyashi tentatively sank to his knees, the shimmering pleats of his jacket folding gracefully around him as his lips brushed Londo’s glove. 

When Piro’s turn came, in place of kneeling, he offered a stiff bow. “I trust you will forgive an old man, Majesty,” he said, though his voice was anything but imploring. “I’m afraid my knees do not bend as well as they used to.” 

Londo’s smile turned brittle, but he let that pass. 

The formalities over with, he waited until the delegates had seated themselves opposite one another, a few chairs away from Londo. His voice deliberately low so they’d have to lean closer to hear him, Londo asked, “What kept you? Important business, no doubt?”

“N-no, Majesty. We were simply—“ Poking their noses where they didn’t belong, Londo assumed. Searching for signs of whatever foul conspiracy had taken root in the palace to allow Londo Mollari, of all people, to ascend the throne. 

“Would your Majesty believe that we lost our way?” Piro cut off Ilyashi with a nervous chuckle. “I’d visited the Royal Palace myself when I was Antaro’s age, and so I decided to show him around a little, teach him some history, and before long, we had no idea where we’d ended up. It was all rather embarrassing.”

Londo nodded indulgently. “Ah, yes. It is dreadfully easy to get lost here. A man could wander down a wrong corridor and not be found for weeks! Perhaps we should assign you an escort?” he asked. 

“That will not be necessary,” Piro began. “We have already—“

Turning his attention to Ilyashi, Londo adopted a scholarly air. “The Royal Palace is a product of an age when architecture was an asset in case of an invasion. Here, you may find two identical rooms, perfect duplicates of one another, at opposite ends of the palace, to confuse infiltrators. There, a hallway that deliberately leads back the way you came. And that is not to speak of the hundreds of hidden passageways, secret chambers, and blocks of abandoned dungeons running beneath the city.” If he’d wanted to, Londo could have gone on all day about the countless unsolved mysteries and strange happenings the Royal Palace had accumulated over its long and colourful history. But by the way Ilyashi shuddered when Londo’s gaze fixed upon him, he had already accomplished his purpose. “How’s that for a history lesson, hm?”

Ilyashi swallowed, then mumbled, “Most enlightening, Majesty.” 

“There is much to be learned from history,” said Piro, seemingly unfazed, idly stroking his beard. “It’s gratifying to hear that your Majesty appreciates the wisdom of the past and will act so as to restore the Republic to its former glory. However, we have looked over the proposal, and—“

Londo raised a hand to silence him. “All in good time, Lord Piro. Certainly, we would not expect your answer overnight. Please take all of the time you require to consider the proposal, consult with your planetary council, make whatever inquiries you need to. We would not wish to spoil one of your rare visits to the capital with dull political disagreements. We will have plenty of time to discuss such matters after a drink or two, yes?”

At that, Londo snapped his fingers, signalling the entrance of two servants bearing brivari and platters of assorted delicacies. Londo plucked a particularly juicy looking _trajel_ off a nearby tray, eating it in the traditional fashion—puncturing the shell with the point of a canine tooth, then sucking out the innards. “Exquisite,” he said, placing the hollowed out shell at the side of his plate. “And to think, only a year ago, we were worried our world’s oceans would no longer support our abundant marine life. Fortunately, our Environmental Ministry is making strides toward the complete recovery of our planet within the next five years—with the help of our friends in the Alliance, of course.”

Lord Piro turned a suspicious eye to the _trajel_ , picking one up as if appraising a chunk of ore. “We’ve been following the reports on the condition of the homeworld. I can assure you, your tragedy is keenly felt at all corners of the Republic.” Apparently deciding against the seafood, Piro wrinkled his nose and returned it to the platter, as though completely ignorant of the insult that represented. Meanwhile, Ilyashi made a minor spectacle of himself sampling the dish. Several times he raised the _trajel_ to his mouth, attempting to work out the proper angle and force of bite necessary to puncture the shell without drenching his scarf.

“I must say, Majesty,” Piro continued, “we were surprised that it did not occur to anyone in your administration to solicit aid from your outer colonies rather than turning to alien governments. I think I speak for all of your loyal subjects of the frontier when I say that we would have been happy to contribute to the restoration efforts. After all, the restoration of a once habitable world is not so different from terraforming an inhospitable one. Despite the stagnation of Turhan’s reign, we have continued to push forward with innovations in this area.”

Londo was tempted to point out that the border worlds had _offered_ no aid in the weeks and months following the bombings, but he held back. Nor did he laugh at the suggestion that innovations in strip-mining were what the Republic needed to get back on its feet. “Nonsense! We would not ask for you to share our burden, Lord Piro,” he said instead. “Not when our core worlds have already suffered the strain of the evacuations.” He paused in contemplation, lifting his glass. “If these ‘alien governments’ are convinced they must lend their aid, we would be fools not to take advantage of their generosity, yes?”

Piro’s hands balled into fists. “Majesty, with all due respect—“ 

Londo chimed his spoon against his glass of brivari. “Gentlemen, we propose a toast. To the glory of the Republic, and to our new place in the Interstellar Alliance. _Valtoo_ ,” he said, then raised the glass to his lips.

A tense pause. Piro narrowed his eyes, one hand wrapped loosely around the stem of his glass. Ilyashi, who had previously been dabbing a napkin over his sleeve, snapped to attention. _“Valtoo_ ,” Piro muttered, prompting Ilyashi to follow. 

_A show of force_ , G’Kar had said. A fine idea, Londo had thought at the time, but one that proved exhausting to maintain. The charade of decorum, misdirection, and intimidation had both delegates off guard, but for how long? Londo glanced between the two men. Piro was the more dangerous of the two, that much was certain. Balanced at the blade’s edge of proper comportment before the emperor, he relentlessly steered the conversation back toward the trade reforms. Ilyashi, on the other hand, was young and proud—easily awed and vulnerable to flattery. Pliable. His very presence at the negotiating table spoke to the recent loss of a father or uncle. By the looks of things, it was likely he’d been specifically instructed to remain silent unless spoken to. Londo understood his position all too well, and had to suppress a wave of sentimentality to take advantage of the obvious opening. 

“As you know, we have been emperor for only a year now. With all that has been going on here, we have not yet had the opportunity to visit your beautiful world. Tell us, what is it like?” Londo asked, shifting his focus between the two men. 

Both delegates made to answer at once, but Ilyashi quickly silenced himself and deferred to Piro. “All goes well at home, Majesty. There remains plenty of untouched land overflowing with potential ore deposits. Recently, we’ve developed a faster, more efficient refining process that should…” Piro trailed off as Londo sagged on one elbow, visibly disinterested. 

“We did not ask about your industry, Lord Piro. We asked about your world.” He graciously extended a hand toward Ilyashi. “Now, what were you about to say?”

“Oh! I…” Ilyashi glanced back and forth between Londo and Lord Piro. “I was going to say that Sayonis is much more than a mining colony. It’s where I was born and raised. Our settlements are equipped with many of the comforts of the core worlds. Outside the habitable zones, the land is rugged and the air is thin, but to see the stars from the top of Ilyashi Peak—named for my great-grandfather, of course—it is a sight to behold, Majesty.” He shifted in his seat, the leather of his jacket shifting from black to blue to pink. “There’s good hunting, too, if you can handle the terrain. Earlier this year, some friends and I went on a month-long expedition to the caves of our southern continent. Managed to slay three _Avral_ lizards the size of—“

“That will be enough, Antaro,” said Piro. “I’m sure the emperor has more important things to discuss than your hunting expeditions.”

Londo ignored him and invited Ilyashi to continue. “Please, Lord Piro. There’s nothing more important to us than the lives and well-being of our colonists. Between you and I,” he said to Ilyashi, intentionally slipping into the singular, “I’m sure coats and handbags of _Avral_ skin shall soon be the latest trend among the homeworld nobles. Especially among our women, hm?” 

Ilyashi smoothed back his crest at the flattery and the mention of women. As predicted, the boy was of the age where he could be led any which way by the reins of his own pride. “We trust you’ve read the provision in the proposal offering incentives for noble families to seek marriage contracts for their young women among your colonists? We’ve been hearing reports that interbreeding has been a problem for quite some time now.” Londo downed the rest of his glass. He’d questioned the wisdom of that provision, but his advisors had insisted it would present a tempting offer. Common practice among families of the outer colonies was to send their own daughters to heavily populated worlds like Immolan or Entat, where there were no shortage of wealthy lords willing to vie for their hands. 

A hopeful smile spread across Ilyashi’s face at the prospect, though Piro sputtered at the insinuation. “All within regulation, Majesty! We have always closely monitored our bloodlines to guard against… that sort of thing. Whatever reports your Majesty has received are almost certainly exaggerated—”

Londo tried to keep the pleasure from showing on his face. By the way Piro carried on, he’d clearly hit a sore spot. 

“—Besides, we are hardly the only colony to struggle with this issue. Even among the homeworld families, such things are not unheard of. Why, wasn’t that the case with your predecessor?”

If Londo had been holding his glass at the time, he feared it would have shattered in his grasp. Piro’s smile took on a sneering edge as he awaited the emperor’s response. 

“Yes,” Londo grudgingly affirmed. “Truly, a great stain upon a proud dynasty. Though he appeared at the peak of health, the young Cartagia had been afflicted with a weak constitution since birth—a heart defect, unfortunately only discovered after his untimely death.” Despite his best efforts to forestall inquiry, the air of mystery surrounding Cartagia’s brief reign had only heightened since Londo took the throne. He’d even heard talk of a cult or two springing up in his honour. G’Kar had once asked him why he did not simply issue a public statement with the truth. Londo had pointed out that when truth was stranger than rumour, revealing it would not put the matter to rest, but rather fan the flames of speculation. Londo did not wish to compromise his reign’s already fragile claim to legitimacy. 

“Turhan’s heirs as well, I take it?” Piro leered across the table like a _liati_ that had cornered its prey. “Such an awful tragedy.” Londo reached for his glass, only to find it empty. Instead, he picked up his fork and stabbed it into a stuffed _tapote_ roll. Though there had been a thin cover story at the time and nobody had uncovered the identity of the perpetrators, it was common knowledge that Turhan’s sons had been murdered. That Piro would so casually connect their fates to Cartagia’s could only be deliberate insult—or else, that the noble population of the border worlds had succumbed to mass insanity. 

Londo tore off a mouthful of the _tapote_ to swallow down his outrage. “Indeed, Lord Piro. Perhaps we were overdue for a new lineage?”

Piro didn’t balk at the suggestion. “Quite right, Majesty. Though if my sources are correct, you aren’t exactly establishing a new lineage, but reviving a much older one? Your Majesty is, of course, the second emperor to bear your name.”

Where were the servants? Londo had been sitting with an empty glass for several minutes now and he most certainly required more alcohol for this conversation. He glanced behind him at the back doors before offering a shrug. “Ah… yes. A very long time ago.”

“Ancient history! I had to consult multiple textbooks to find mention of your royal ancestor,” Piro continued. Londo knew where this was heading, though he remained helpless to do anything about it. “As I understand it, the poor fellow could barely hold the Republic together through the economic downturn, waged a losing war against the Vakalan Confederacy, and then drank himself to death.” 

Londo, who had been staring longingly into his empty glass, abruptly set it down. “Well, I’m sure—“ he started, but Piro took no notice of the slip, nor that he’d spoken at all.

“And on top of it all, he left no heirs! Do not mistake me, I’m certain your Majesty would never meet with such a fate, what with your many wives… remind me, what are their names again?”

“Shall we be meeting them at the banquet tomorrow?” Ilyashi broke in before Londo had a chance to defend himself. 

All it took was one slip, one lapse of attention, one poorly timed remark, and suddenly the conversation was out of his control. He’d spent hours in the morning rehearsing the course of the negotiations—the order he’d prepare his points, how he’d keep the the delegates with their backs to the wall, how he would explain the matter of the Alliance. But somehow, in the last few minutes, the situation had spiraled into chaos and suddenly Londo was fumbling for words to salvage his dignity, to say nothing of the negotiation. Londo’s gaze fell into his lap, where he’d been clenching his fists under the table. His palms slick, he reached for the nearest napkin when, suddenly, a fresh one appeared in his hand. 

“Majesty,” G’Kar whispered over his shoulder, then proceeded to refill his glass. 

Londo inhaled a little too sharply. He tilted his head to meet a pair of gleaming red eyes. After a protracted moment of stunned incomprehension, he gathered himself to whisper back, “G’Kar, what are you doing here?” He spoke in English, as he and G’Kar always did among themselves—not realizing until afterwards what a fortunate habit it was. As the delegates had made exceedingly clear, neither of them possessed diplomatic training and Sayonis was hardly a popular destination for human tourists. 

“Play along,” G’Kar instructed, his voice a warm rumble at the back of Londo’s neck. He paced to the other side of the table to top off the delegates’ drinks.

The room had quieted at G’Kar’s entrance. Ilyashi gaped up at the new ‘servant’ as though he’d never seen a Narn before while Piro furrowed his brow in confusion. Their aggressive line of questioning apparently forgotten, they turned to Londo for explanation. “I assume this is your Majesty’s famous Narn adviser we’ve been hearing so much about?” Piro asked.

“We caught a glimpse of him yesterday in the audience chamber,” said Ilyashi, eyes wide as G’Kar reached over his shoulder to return his glass to the table. “We were looking forward to meeting him.”

“Adviser? N-no, not at all. He is our…”— _servant_ , _bodyguard_ , _friend_ , _confidante_ , _lover_ , _partner_ , his mind supplied in quick succession. From across the room, G’Kar locked eyes with Londo while the delegates’ backs were turned. He winked, then flicked his tongue over his upper lip. Londo’s smile froze in a grimace—“creature.”

Piro seemed to shrink in his seat when G’Kar approached, avoiding eye contact, prattling on to Londo, “Great Maker, wherever did your Majesty come across such a… magnificent specimen?” He flinched when G’Kar removed a used napkin from beside his plate to replace it with a clean one. 

“We, ah… well, it was—“ Londo stammered. He tried to catch G’Kar’s gaze as he fussed about the room, furious that G’Kar had put him in this position, as well as humiliated on his behalf. From his coronation onward, the first thing he’d established before the court was that G’Kar was his personal bodyguard and _equal_. To speak against G’Kar was to speak against the emperor himself. He’d publicly taken G’Kar’s side in conflicts they’d argued about in private for days, all to make sure nobody questioned his status or authority. Now, to see him prancing about before noble guests in the guise of a servant, making Londo look like... an idea struck him. 

Londo caught G’Kar’s arm as he strode past on the way back to the servant’s entrance. “It was a true stroke of fortune,” he said to Piro. “During our predecessor’s short reign and occupation of the Narn homeworld, there were many Narn prisoners brought back to the Royal Palace to be used as servants. Some cooperated, others did not. I suppose our predecessor thought an extended stay in the dungeons might improve their dispositions. After he left us and we… ah, reconsidered the wisdom of the occupation, these servants left of their own accord. The ones who had been serving time in the dungeons, however, had been forgotten by all except the guards who continued to tend them. Until last year, on a chance inspection, we discovered him.” He encouraged G’Kar to turn around. “Close to death, his wits wandering. How could we not take pity on such a creature?”

“And he was willing to serve?” Ilyashi asked, glancing between him and G’Kar. 

Londo nodded, tugging G’Kar closer. “Oh yes. By that point, he was willing to do almost anything.” At that, G’Kar knelt at Londo’s side. Subtly, he tapped Londo’s elbow, prompting him to raise his hand so G’Kar could kiss it. Eyes open, he stared at Londo over his burden of rings, lips lingering over his knuckles. Londo felt a flush creep down his neck. 

“But to keep one of them so close to your Majesty’s person…” said Piro with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head. “A hazardous business. Time and time again, it has been proven that Narns can never be fully tamed, and, of course, they are several times stronger than the average Centauri. How can your Majesty be sure this one is not simply biding its time, waiting for the opportunity to strike?”

 _It_. Piro had called G’Kar an ‘it’. Londo felt his jaw clench, his throat tighten. He wanted to scream, though he wasn’t sure whether it was Lord Piro or G’Kar himself who ought to bear the brunt of his wrath. G’Kar hadn’t let go of his hand, and right then, he gave it a squeeze. _Play along_. 

“Oh, he is quite docile,” Londo said, extending his arm toward G’Kar, letting him support his wrist. “It would take the smallest effort for him to twist our arm, shatter the bones into a hundred pieces.” He flipped his arm, palm up, as if inviting G’Kar to do just that. In keeping with his flair for the dramatic, G’Kar let Londo’s words hang in the air for a moment, bringing the delegates to the edge of their seats. Then, in a shamelessly fawning display, he dipped his head to nuzzle Londo’s palm. “Rest assured, Lord Piro, if he had any intention of harming us, he has had no lack of opportunity.” 

G’Kar’s lips brushed the sliver of bare skin between Londo’s sleeve and the edge of his glove. “Majesty…” G’Kar breathed in the same reverent tones Londo vividly recalled from last night. The image of G’Kar crouched at his side and the sensation of lips on his skin had Londo fighting back memories of G’Kar undressing him, the want in his eyes, his back hitting the sheets. As he cupped G’Kar’s face and ran a thumb along his cheekbone, he caught himself anticipating the pattern of spots that led down his neck, encircling his collar, and then… _no_. Londo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, grateful that the waistcoat he’d chosen this morning was a snug fit. 

Piro was still talking. “Yes, this one does seem… obedient. All the same, if I were in your Majesty’s place, I would have it sent back to its homeworld at the earliest opportunity.”

Londo glanced at G’Kar, monitoring his reactions. He expected a wince or a sneer at Lord Piro’s odious sentiments, but for G’Kar, it was as if the rest of the room had ceased to exist. His attention was fixed solely on Londo, eyeing him with a serene intensity that made him feel naked. Londo turned back to Lord Piro. “Then it’s a good thing you are not in our position, hm? So long after our official withdrawal from Narn, if word got out that we still possessed Narns in captivity, it may have jeopardized our position within the Alliance.” 

“Perhaps I’m mistaken, Majesty, but does the Alliance leadership not also look down upon the _keeping_ of citizens of alien worlds?” He spoke cautiously, allowing no judgment to leak into his tone, as if merely clarifying a fine point of interpretation and not the legitimacy of slavery. 

It took all the restraint Londo possessed not to raise his voice in challenge. “We are afraid perhaps we have given the wrong impression, Lord Piro. G’Kar is a free man, and well compensated for his services.” Probably more so than the population of working commoners on Sayonis, he was tempted to add. “He is free to leave at any time. He chooses to remain at my side.” At that, Londo glanced over at the empty chair next to him and granted G’Kar permission to take a seat. 

“What are you doing?” G’Kar asked softly in English as he took his place at the table.

“Trust me. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for,” Londo whispered back. 

“But the Alliance—“ Piro interrupted, louder than before. 

“The Alliance has more important things to worry about than the Centauri emperor’s personal staff, hm?” Londo insisted. “You are right that they may find many of our traditions… distasteful, but as you should know, the Alliance takes no interest in the internal affairs of its member worlds. Besides, as we have tried to explain, our involvement with the Alliance is purely a matter of the Republic’s best interests. We sign their declaration, abide by their principles, agree to a few concessions in trade…”

Piro’s hands tightened around the armrests of his chair. “Then you will not mind explaining to us exactly what your Majesty hopes to gain from our involvement with the Alliance.” 

“Everything,” Londo answered, each syllable drawn out. He picked up his newly filled glass, swirling it around before taking a long drink. “You appear to be a keen businessman, Lord Piro, but you lack a sense of competition. We’d hoped not to have to reveal our mind in such basic terms, but we often forget how the intricacies of galactic politics can escape those of a more provincial background.” It was the closest Londo had come to direct insult so far, but after enduring scathing indictment from a glorified peasant on everything from his style of governance to his family history, Londo figured he was entitled. “It may be hard to glimpse from your little corner of the Republic, but the galaxy is a very different place than it was ten years ago. Our core values—exploration, conquest, self-sufficiency—are under threat. As alien governments unite for common benefit, share technologies and military resources with one another, we would be—“

“Yes!” Lord Piro’s hand landed hard on the table. “So you understand exactly why we must oppose them!”

Londo closed his eyes and chuckled under his breath, noticing he’d dropped the title entirely. “Is your hearing as weak as your knees, Lord Piro?” asked Londo. “We did mention that they are sharing technology, did we not? Of course, by that, we mean the _Minbari_ are sharing their technology. Do you understand what that means?” 

Surprisingly, it was Ilyashi who answered in place of Piro. “Gravimetric technology. I… I’ve read about it. The Minbari use it for everything from their spaceship drives to their planetary settlements. I’ve heard they even have personal gravity fields that can be manipulated with an apparatus so small it can be kept in your pocket, or worn around a finger.”

“Smart lad!” Londo said, making his Ilyashi’s face light up despite the way Piro glowered at him across the table. “Now imagine, if you will, what would happen if a species like the Narn were to get their hands on these advances before we were able to match them.” He hadn’t forgotten the way Piro flinched when G’Kar had attended him. Before the reduction of territory the Narn had suffered in the war, Sayonis had sat right on their border, one jump away from an invasion. 

Piro hesitated, considering that possibility. “An excellent reason to begin allocating research funds towards weapons development. In the true spirit of Centauri progress and ingenuity, I have no doubt that with enough support, our own great minds could—“

“When?” Londo threw up his hands, nearly spilling his drink in the process. “They have had close to eight-hundred years to figure it out. What progress can be made in the next five that will keep our Republic safe from Minbari technology in the hands of our enemies?” 

Piro stared down at the table, struck silent by the force of the argument. 

Londo went on. “Speaking of the ‘true spirit of Centauri progress’, consider the possibilities this opens up for us within our own territory. While we may be prevented from expanding so long as the Alliance lasts, think of the worlds that remain uncharted on account of their gravitational extremes. Think of the excitement of exploration, what bounties await us. We can think of no better way to recapture the ‘true spirit’ of our people.” Londo set down his glass. “Can you?”

Uneasy silence filled the room like a held breath. Even G’Kar, who had previously seemed unmoved by the tide of conversation, now sat with his head tilted in keen interest. Piro opened his mouth, and for a moment looked as if he was about to say something, but decided against it. 

“Now, will you agree to sign the proposal?” asked Londo.

Ilyashi, at least, looked ready to sign right then and there. The talk of exploration, discovery, and colonizing new worlds clearly appealed to his youthful ambitions. Piro, on the other hand, didn’t look convinced so much as berated into submission. The corners of his mouth twitched into a stiff smile. “Your Majesty said that we would not have to decide overnight. I can promise that we shall give your proposal a second look and carefully consider our position in light of this new information. You will have your answer tomorrow.”

“And that, Lord Piro, is all we ask.” 

Londo let out a sigh of relief. He stood up to bid the delegates farewell and good night when he caught G’Kar staring at him out of the corner of his eye. G’Kar tilted his chin in the direction of the half-finished trays of refreshments. Londo nodded in permission, but G’Kar tugged his sleeve and glanced over to the delegates. Too exhausted to argue, Londo picked up one of the sweet _krellini_ tarts he knew G’Kar was fond of. About to drop it onto his plate, he startled when G’Kar began to eat right out of his hand.

He offered a helpless grin to Piro and Ilyashi as his ‘servant’ made an obscene show of licking the crumbs from his fingertips. “Truly, I spoil him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G’Kar uses a public extension of their bedroom game from the last chapter to fool the Sayonese delegates into thinking that Londo’s the kind of emperor they’d respect. This involves prostrating himself before Londo during a meeting, eating treats from his hand, and performing the role of a servant during the negotiations. G’Kar does not ask Londo’s permission before doing this and Londo is extremely uncomfortable throughout (though physically very aroused).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same deal as last time. Click down to the endnotes for some spoiler-y clarification about which tags feature in this chapter and how they're used.

With his appointments of the day concluded, Londo led the way back to the emperor’s wing without once looking behind him. G’Kar would undoubtedly follow, so he set a brisk pace to keep a little ways ahead. Halfway across the palace he marched, hands behind his back, staff and courtiers knowing well enough to stay out of his way and lower their eyes as he passed. He couldn’t risk speaking to G’Kar right now. If the court were to witness the emperor fighting with his bodyguard in the middle of a crowded corridor, then before long, they would start selling tickets. 

“Mollari!” he heard as he rounded the corner into the empty hallway outside his suites. Londo turned. G’Kar stood at a distance—straight, tall, and menacing as any proper bodyguard should be. Slightly winded anyway, Londo slowed to let him catch up. G’Kar barely glanced at him as he strode ahead to the doors. With customary fastidiousness, he inspected the entranceway before stepping aside to hold the door for Londo. It never ceased to astonish him, the dedication with which G’Kar honoured the little formalities of their relationship, while, at the same time, bearing open contempt for the traditions they represented. The man was a living contradiction—fascinating at times, infuriating at others. This time, however, he’d crossed a line, and Londo was in no mood to be placated with courtesies and good intentions. 

Prepared to leave G’Kar to his own devices and spend the rest of the evening alone with a bottle of brivari and a pile of reports, he set off toward the bedroom. That was, until G’Kar casually remarked, “I think that went well.”

Londo pivoted, snarled, then advanced on G’Kar. Cornering him against the wall of the parlour, Londo’s hand landed hard just over G’Kar’s shoulder, sending the lights and picture frames swaying. “G’Kar, what in the name of all the gods is wrong with you?!” he shouted, teeth bared. “What were you thinking intruding on the negotiations?”

“What are you talking about?” G’Kar looked confused. “A show of force, don’t you remember?"

“That? That ridiculous stunt you pulled in there is what you consider ‘a show of force’?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

Londo’s hand slid from the wall to G’Kar’s shoulder in a tight grip. “How should I know? Lord Piro said he’d ‘consider it’. It would be premature to count that as a success by any means, and whether that had anything to do with…” he trailed off, realizing that whether or not it had worked was beside the point. “Do you realize how you made us look, G’Kar?”

“Exactly the way you intended to, I’d say.” G’Kar replied. “Come now, Mollari. I was sitting right outside the door the whole time. I overheard most of your conversation. Evoking the awe and terror of the emperors of old, your talk of the Alliance as a necessary evil. You gave a marvelous performance of appearing to live up to the delegates’ expectations.”

“You know I didn’t mean a word of it,” Londo said. His grip weakened, allowing G’Kar to take a step forward. 

“Of course you didn’t. Give me a little credit, Mollari.” G’Kar turned up his palms up. “What I’m saying is that I understood what you were trying to accomplish, so I chose to step in on your behalf.”

Londo grit his teeth, struggling against the urge to seize G’Kar by the collar and strangle him. He turned his back on him, instead. “I do not recall asking you to do that.”

“How could I not? Even I could see it when Lord…Firo, Kiro—whatever his name was—held you at a disadvantage. The things he said about you, Mollari! About your position, about the Alliance, about your wife, your ancestors! “ Londo didn’t turn around, but he was surprised to detect a genuine pang of outrage in G’Kar’s voice. It was the last thing he expected to hear from his stubborn, defiant, and intolerably blunt companion who, under normal circumstances, never passed up the opportunity for a jab at Londo’s expense. “You could not expect me to stand by and watch them dishonour you.”

“What makes you think I could not have resolved the situation myself?” Londo shot back. He cast one last glare in G’Kar’s direction before putting more distance between them. “Putting up with you for so long, is it any wonder I may have developed a thick skin, hm?” Londo slumped onto one of the sprawling couches in the center of the room, perching his feet at the edge of the low coffee table. “So you see, I had no need of your… intervention, nor did I ask for it.”

G’Kar didn’t take his eyes off him, but he made no move to approach. “You asked me to refer to you by your title last night.”

“That wasn’t—“ Londo squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “All I asked was for you to watch your tongue in front of noble guests! Not for you to… to debase yourself and your people for the sake of my reputation! I have never asked that of you, G’Kar, I would never… the very idea is repulsive to me.” Heat rose in his cheeks as the image surfaced of G’Kar kneeling at his side. “Do you have any idea how long it has taken for the court to accept your presence here? If I had not all but _ordered_ that you were to be respected as a man of your rank, they would be only too happy to treat you as nothing but a trained beast for their amusement. Oh yes, Emperor Mollari and his pet Narn!” he sneered, then lowered his voice. “Do not forget, G’Kar, that in humiliating yourself, you humiliate me, my title, my judgment. You are personal bodyguard to the emperor of the Centauri Republic. The least you could do is act like it.”

G’Kar’s expression passed from confusion, to anger, to hurt, finally settling into something inscrutable. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t feel particularly humiliated.”

“That has nothing to do with—“

“Doesn’t it?” G’Kar asked, then cautiously approached, taking Londo’s silence as an answer in itself. “Do not speak out of concern for my dignity, Mollari, when this is really about yours.” His words were firm, though he spoke softly. Londo felt the cushions shift beneath him as G’Kar took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “You’re worried that by taking advantage of the assumptions of your people for your benefit, I am, at the same time, implicating you in that injustice. Is that it?”

“No!” Londo shouted. “It’s not—“ The suggestion struck something inside him that he barely noticed was there anymore, something he’d only just learned to forget. “It was perverse, G’Kar.”

“Is that so?” G’Kar asked in that same gentle tone. “You didn’t seem to think so last night.” It could have been an accusation, but it didn’t sound like one. Londo almost wished it was so that he could deny it. So he could escape the way G’Kar’s eyes fixed on him with one of those unbearable looks, the kind that pierced right through him and made his own words ring false to his ears. 

As much as the thought churned his stomach, he had enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed it very much, to the point that the mere reminder of their encounter sparked desire at the most inappropriate times. Did that make him no better than the worst of his people, those who took pleasure in the exercise of power and indulging their delusions of superiority? It would be comforting to dismiss the possibility. But no matter how long he turned it over in his mind, he discovered no satisfaction in the idea of G’Kar as his own kept creature. Not even years ago, when he’d dreamed of the defeat of the Narn at the hands of his people, would he have wished for that. 

It was unthinkable that he’d feel this way toward G’Kar—a man with whom he’d fought for years to earn the barest scrap of respect, who never hesitated to point out his flaws, in whose estimation Londo had come to measure his every deed, who inspired him to do better. That he’d live to see that man lay at his feet and call him ‘Majesty’ and make it sound like he was truly worthy of it was…

Londo realized that he’d been biting his lip. He cursed under his breath.

“That was different,” he said in what he knew was a wholly inadequate response to G’Kar’s question. “Besides, you should know by now that what happens in here is not the same as what happens out there.” He pointed to the door. “Great Maker, I thought you understood that.”

Of all things, that seemed to get through to G’Kar. He bowed his head, letting silence gather between them. Londo had long given up the hope of understanding what went on beneath that thick, spotted skull, but if there was anything that distressed G’Kar, it was the implication that he’d broken a promise—even one normally left unspoken.

“I should have asked,” G’Kar said. A statement. Neither a question nor an admission.

“Yes, you should have.”

“If I may make one thing clear?” G’Kar said after a heavy pause, and this time, he was asking. He shifted closer to Londo, placing a hand on his knee. Londo couldn’t yet bring himself to meet G’Kar’s eyes, but he didn’t pull away. “Whatever it is you feel, I want you to understand that it was never my intention to cause you shame. But I will not have you assuming that burden on my behalf. Whatever remains to be said between our peoples, the time it will take to completely heal those wounds is more than we have left. After all we’ve been through, Mollari, do we not deserve the chance to do as we please?” 

Londo wasn’t sure what to make of that, much less how he was expected to respond. Thankfully, G’Kar demanded nothing more than to close the distance between them ever so slightly. “If that is the way you feel, I don’t suppose you would object to prolonging this little charade through the banquet tomorrow? Until our distinguished guests return to their homeworld, it is important we keep up appearances, yes?”

“Of course, I’d be—“ G’Kar blinked up at him, alarmed. “Wait. Nobody mentioned anything about a banquet.”

“Then you must not have been listening.” Londo remembered the plans for the next day coming up several times over the course of the negotiations. 

“Who will be there?”

For the life of him, Londo couldn’t keep from smiling as he turned to G’Kar. “Everyone.”

Before G’Kar could protest, there came a knock at the door. Both of them startled, then G’Kar stood up to admit Londo’s footman, Korvel. Lean but gawky, the young man took a few steps inside and offered a clumsy bow. “Majesty, Lord Antaro Ilyashi wishes to speak with you. What should I tell him?”

“Only Ilyashi?” Londo raised an eyebrow at G’Kar, who shrugged in return. “Did he come alone?” 

Korvel nodded. “Yes, Majesty. Shall I tell him to schedule an appointment?”

“No, no, send him in! We will receive him here.” At that, Korvel rushed back out the door. Normally not one to receive visitors in his own suites, Londo rose to smooth his jacket and straighten his crest. “What? I’m curious,” he said when G’Kar shot him a questioning look. 

Moments later, Korvel returned with Ilyashi in tow. “Majesty, I—“ Ilyashi began to speak before Korvel had properly announced him, resulting in both of them talking at once until Londo raised a hand to politely dismiss Korvel and wave Ilyashi inside. Far from the pompous brat he’d met in the reception room, Ilyashi looked flustered, frayed, like he’d dashed all he way across the palace. He pulled out a folded document from his pocket and presented it to Londo. “I’ve signed the proposal, Majesty.”

Londo flipped to the last page of the proposal to find Ilyashi’s seal and signature at the bottom. “Why, this is excellent,” he said, fighting to keep the surprise out of his voice. “It’s heartening to know that Sayonis is still producing men of good sense and vision. We have no doubt this will go a long way toward strengthening the bonds between the homeworld and our outer colonies.” 

“Actually, about that—“ Ilyashi began before Londo put an arm around his shoulders and guided him over to the couch. 

Londo took a seat on the opposite couch, glancing over to G’Kar, who had, to his relief, slipped back into his role since Ilyashi joined their company. One look from Londo, and G’Kar set off for the liquor cabinet and returned with a bottle of brivari and two glasses. “Now, as much as I’d like to celebrate this decision, unfortunately, the proposal requires Lord Piro’s approval as well.”

“He won’t.” Ilyashi blurted out. “We started arguing almost as soon as the meeting ended. My uncle—ah, Lord Piro, I mean—he’s still dead set against it.”

 _Uncle_. That explained a great deal, thought Londo, though he was hardly surprised. He stared ruefully into the glass G’Kar handed him. “Is he now? And here I thought we were more than clear in explaining the necessity of our decision.”

“He’s always been like this. Stubborn, controlling, and there’s nothing he hates more than losing an argument. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve… oh, never mind. I’m sure your Majesty—“

“Nonsense. By all means, continue.” Londo pointed to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

As if he’d just noticed it was there, Ilyashi snapped up the glass and drained half of it in one gulp. “My uncle and I have never really seen eye to eye, but ever since my father left us, Maker guide his soul, it’s fallen on me to run our family’s share of the partnership. I’d always known I’d be expected to assume the responsibility someday, but truthfully, I’d never given it much thought.” He sighed, resting his elbows against his knees. “Piro believes it’s his solemn duty to prepare me for the role—in fact, I’m sure that’s the only reason he brought me here—but it’s all been so overwhelming and… Majesty, I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Londo had suspected as much, though he didn’t voice the observation. “Well, it’s a good thing he brought you along. Perhaps you may yet succeed in talking some sense into him.”

“Me?! How could I? According to him, I’m a useless layabout who doesn’t know the first thing about galactic politics or trade agreements, or…” He trailed off before he could launch into another tirade, soothing himself with another sip of his drink, more restrained this time. “I doubt he’ll change his mind.”

“You did,” Londo pointed out. “Unless you arrived here with the intention to defy your uncle.”

Ilyashi shook his head, sending his once exquisitely coifed crest into further disarray. “No, nothing like that! Or, wait…” His eyes met Londo’s for a moment, then sank down to the pendant around his neck. “More like, I hadn’t realized I’d have any choice in the matter. With all due respect, Majesty, all I knew about you and the reforms you were advocating were things my uncle had told me. On my world, your name is not exactly spoken in high regard.”

“Yes, I am well aware of what they think of me,” Londo said with a chuckle. “But after all you have seen and heard, what do _you_ think?” Though Ilyashi had been raised far from the heart of the Republic, brought up on a frontier colony with coarse manners and odd customs, his plight was a familiar one. Perhaps he was overstepping himself in his sympathy, but Londo couldn’t escape the impression that, in his young life, the boy had not been asked that question nearly enough.

Judging by the blank expression he received in response, he was right. Ilyashi spent a few moments mulling it over as he nursed his drink. “I understand why my uncle thinks the way he does about our planet. Really, I do. We remain the richest source of quantium ore in Centauri space and there’s still enough left in the ground to fuel the Republic’s needs for centuries to come. It seems like an awful waste to give it up, especially when the industry is singularly responsible for our prosperity. But I don’t think it needs to be that way. There’s another way to look at it. I love our world, Majesty. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, and there’s so much more to it than quantium! If we were to downsize our operations, re-purpose our infrastructure, I… I think it could be an attractive place to live. Tough living, but some people appreciate that, don’t they? If we could bring in some skilled agriculturalists, we could start growing our own food, rather than having it shipped, and our commoners would have more options than working in the refineries, and we wouldn’t have to rely so much on the core worlds, and…”

Londo nodded along, considering his plans. How anyone could get so worked up over the potential of a planet seen as little more than a barren asteroid was beyond his comprehension, but Ilyashi’s enthusiasm was contagious. He stopped him after a moment, not unkindly. “A fine dream, but also a vast undertaking, no? You have considered the amount of time and manpower it would take to realize this vision of yours? The costs of terraforming alone would—” 

Why was he telling him this? If grand ambitions were enough for Ilyashi to agree to the proposal, what did it matter if they proved impossible? Perhaps it was because he could practically feel G’Kar rolling his eyes from wherever he’d hidden himself after setting the table. Limiting drastic environmental interventions on the Republic’s colony worlds to avoid displacing or interfering with the development of native lifeforms was one of the values these reforms were designed to promote. 

“No! No more terraforming.” Ilyashi seemed horrified by the prospect. “I don’t mean for Sayonis to become another manufactured holiday retreat for the homeworld nobility. Our planet is not for the faint of heart, but that’s the beauty of it.” He spread his hands in front of him. “I’ve seen what’s become of the northern continent as a result of my family’s mining operations. I don’t want to see the same happen to the rest.”

Londo set down his drink to seriously ponder the implications of what Ilyashi was saying. “Be that as it may, what you are suggesting is still a reorganization of your society from its very foundations. From where exactly do you expect to receive the necessary funds? I understand your family is possessed of considerable wealth, but…“

Ilyashi’s eyes brightened. “I’ve read over your proposal carefully, Majesty, and I believe that as long as you, ah… the throne, sorry, follows through on their promise of compensation, we should have enough to at least get started.”

Quite suddenly, Londo had to stifle the impulse to laugh. Only once in his life as a politician had Londo encountered such a shameless flight of idealism, and on that day, he’d nearly laughed Delenn out of the room before allowing himself to become swept up in her optimism. Londo often needed to remind himself that the Alliance had achieved success beyond anyone’s wildest hopes, in spite of his own doubts and objections. He softened his tone as he said, “There’s still the matter of your uncle.”

With the benefit of a little encouragement and a quickly downed glass of brivari, Ilyashi no longer balked at the question. “For all his stubbornness, my uncle knows you’re right. That’s the trouble. He’s a patriot, if nothing else, and you’ve shown him that making trade concessions to the Alliance is truly in best interests of the Republic right now.”

“Then what is the problem?” Londo asked. 

“The problem… is that he doesn’t trust you,” Ilyashi replied, hesitant at first, but growing in confidence. “Not your Majesty specifically. Well, maybe a little. But mostly the throne in general.” Every second thought, it seemed, the boy forgot who he was talking to. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Londo couldn’t find the will to correct him. 

“What you have to understand, Majesty, is that, in many ways, the border worlds don’t feel like they’re truly a part of the Republic. Cut off from the center of civilization, yet dependent on the homeworld’s generosity for the necessities of life. Our stewardship over our worlds is guaranteed only as long as we’re producing something of value to the Republic as a whole. For centuries, the homeworld has been content to forget we exist until they need something, swaying us with offers, promises, and assurances that… usually go unfulfilled.” lyashi took a deep breath, gathering his courage before he continued. “For my uncle, our hold over the quantium industry is our only leverage over the homeworld, the only way to ensure a future for our colony.”

’ _It would be… how do the humans say it? Hitting two birds with one stone?_ ’ His own words to G’Kar from the previous night echoed in his mind. 

“I see,” said Londo, and indeed, it was the only appropriate response. If Ilyashi hadn’t been so painfully earnest, he would have taken his answer for another insult, a ploy, or an attempt at misdirection. Ilyashi had seen right through him, but there was no accusation in his eyes, no trap, no blame to be found—only a sincere request that demanded nothing more than to be heard. “What you’re saying is we must prove to your uncle that our administration will make good on our promises, yes?”

“It could help, Majesty.”

“Perhaps that can be arranged,” Londo said, then got to his feet and extended both hands. Whatever they drank on Sayonis clearly did not compare to homeworld brivari, for Ilyashi had to steady himself on the armrest as he rose. He straightened immediately after realizing he was being invited to lock arms with the emperor. “Your insight has been most valuable. You have our gratitude,” Londo said, his hands around Ilyashi’s wrists. 

After exchanging farewells, Londo summoned Korvel to escort Ilyashi back to the guest wing. As soon as they were gone, Londo turned to find G’Kar leaning against the doorway to the bedroom. Though he’d changed into his robe, he got the impression G’Kar had been listening in on most of the conversation. “Clever little thing, isn’t he?”

Londo narrowed his eyes at G’Kar, then gave a shrug. “Far brighter than I was at his age, anyway.”

“What are you going to do?”

“It’s been a long day, G’Kar. I’m going to order up some dinner, and then I will be going straight to bed.” Londo sighed, sagging against the back of the couch. “But first, I have to make a call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Londo and G’Kar have an argument and work through some of the issues that cropped up in the last chapter, but Londo agrees that G’Kar’s behaviour is doing a good job of convincing the delegates to agree to his terms, so they decide to continue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some contextual spoilers in the endnotes for anyone who's concerned about the tags.

There were few things in life the Centauri enjoyed more than a festival. Every other week in the Royal Palace, it seemed, there was a glorious occasion to be celebrated. Many were held in honour of gods or emperors, others to commemorate some momentous historical event, but all appeared to involve food, music, and copious amounts of alcohol. After a while, G’Kar had stopped trying to keep track of what it all stood for and began to treat these affairs as simply one more reason to double down on security. He didn’t know whether to feel amused or saddened by his suspicion that Londo now felt the same way. 

Once, Londo’s would have been the loudest voice in the room. G’Kar could remember the lavish gatherings he’d arrange on Babylon 5 to celebrate the arrival of visiting nobles, how he’d gravitate to the center of a crowd, raucously drunk, crowing the virtues of the throne and whichever group of preening fools he hoped to impress. Now, as guests arrived by the dozens from all corners of the Republic, Londo barely had to rise from his seat to watch those same fools line up before him to pay tribute to the emperor. He greeted almost everyone by name—how he managed to remember, G’Kar had no idea—and offered placid blessings. 

But it wasn’t only Londo who commanded attention tonight. It wasn’t often that the court was treated to the sight of the emperor’s bodyguard at attendance beside the throne, on display for all comers. Still as a statue, he kept his gaze to the floor, catching fleeting glimpses of the crowd that slowly filled the hall. Gasps, whispers, gossip—G’Kar could only imagine the rumours currently taking shape. His spontaneous performance in front of the Sayonese delegates—two strangers he hadn’t liked and of whom he would likely never meet again—had been one thing. To be seen like this in front of the entire court was another. He would have liked to believe that it was Londo who talked him into it, that he’d agreed only out of a sense of reciprocity and a call to maintain the farce he’d unwittingly begun. But the thought bothered him less than it should have, and almost certainly not as much as it bothered Londo.

After a brief address from Londo, the celebration was underway. Londo took G’Kar by the wrist and led him from the dais and into the crowd. “Where are we going?” G’Kar asked as they made their way across the floor. 

“Lord Piro said he’d have our answer tonight,” Londo replied, raising his voice over the ambient chatter and music wafting from the other end of the hall. “I did not see him come to greet us. Did you?”

G’Kar looked around, scanning the sea of crests and jeweled headdresses for Lord Piro—not that G’Kar remembered his face well enough to distinguish him from the hundreds of other overdressed, grey-haired nobles in attendance. He would have recognized Ilyashi, but there was no sign of him either. 

Londo grumbled under his breath, something about the delegates ‘losing their way’ again, then tugged G’Kar in the direction of the stairwell leading up to the mezzanine. It was a short distance, but it took ages for them to weave a route through the throngs of guests vying for royal favour. Londo made graceful work of deflecting their questions and rebuffing their invitations while G’Kar eyed the offerings of the banquet. A long table spread across the center of the hall, overflowing with dishes and confections: _roopo_ balls, _japoti_ tarts drizzled in sweet syrup, braised _treel_ skin, cured _vendaro_ blubber, and of course, spoo in every conceivable form. The intermingling scents made his mouth water, but G’Kar resigned himself to a sample of _krellini_ plucked from the tray of a passing servant. 

Above the bustle of the main floor, the mezzanine provided a quiet refuge for those who’d taken their fill of vapid mingling and wished to appreciate the revelry from a distance. Curtains and lattices sectioned off lounges and private tables—perfect for business discussions or the odd illicit rendezvous. “Mollari!” came a booming voice from the top of the stairs. Instinctively, G’Kar readied a hand over the dagger sheathed at his hip until a smiling man in military garb stepped out to greet them at the landing, arms outstretched. “You old rogue, you still owe me three-hundred ducats on that card game!”

“Orestes?” Londo barely had time to put a name to the face before the old soldier secured both hands around his wrists, then pulled him into a sturdy embrace. “It was two-hundred ducats, last I remember!”

The man laughed loudly at that. “That’s Admiral Calvatore Orestes now,” the man said, gesturing to the wall of jingling medallions at his breast. 

“Ah, splendid! Truly, it’s been too long!” Londo puffed out his chest and lifted the pendant around his neck. “And that will be ‘Majesty’ to you, Admiral,” he answered with an exaggerated scowl that lasted all of a second before both men burst into laughter.

One of Londo’s old military comrades, G’Kar presumed from their cheerful reunion, or perhaps a fondly remembered superior officer. Admiral Orestes appeared a few years older than Londo, but exceeded even G'Kar in stature. Broad shouldered and fit for his age, the wrinkles on his craggy face accentuated his congenial smile. G’Kar knew the type—arrogant and self-obsessed as any Centauri, but whose confidence was rooted in true accomplishment rather than titles and feckless bluster. G'Kar struggled to hold back his distaste. If this man’s military career had lasted long enough for him to make Admiral, there was no question as to what those accomplishments consisted in. 

After a convivial display of pleasantries and back-slapping, Londo turned to G’Kar as if to offer an introduction. “G’Kar, I—“ He faltered, glancing around, as if he expected Lord Piro to suddenly materialize in front of them. “Why don’t you go on and fetch drinks for the Admiral and I?”

Reluctant to leave his side, G’Kar met Londo’s eyes in silent confirmation. Londo nodded and waved him away. G’Kar obediently dipped his head and descended the stairs back to the main floor. In his haste to locate the nearest liquor fountain and head back upstairs, he almost missed the sight of Ilyashi propped up against one of the columns supporting the mezzanine. Drink in hand, Ilyashi was flanked by a group of noble youth who huddled close to listen to whatever tale he was in the midst of animatedly recounting. Off to the side were a cluster of women of about the same age, absorbed in their own conversation with the occasional coy glance to the young men. One woman in particular, tall and willowy, with white flowers woven into a braid that brushed her hips, seemed to be taking a keen interest in Ilyashi. G’Kar inwardly rolled his eyes—at least someone here was having a good time. 

Lord Piro was still nowhere to be found. G’Kar made a cursory search as he stood at the fountain, filled two glasses with pink-tinged bubbly liquor, and loaded them onto a tray. On his way up the stairs, he glimpsed a pair of familiar silhouettes through a curtained enclosure overlooking the railing. Londo sat on a high-backed lounge opposite Admiral Orestes and two women coiled at his side. One of them G’Kar assumed was his wife—a handsome older woman in a dark green gown laced up to her throat, a shock of jewelled ruffles framing her face. The other—a waifish girl in a daring pink dress with a cut that left her bare to the small of her back—G’Kar would have taken for a daughter if not for the way Orestes’ hand lingered just above her hips.

“Aha, perfect timing!” Orestes said when G’Kar set the tray on the table. He raised his glass, took a sip, then passed the rest of it to the younger of his two wives. “As I was saying, we rarely find occasion to visit the capital these days. After all that awful business last year, we wondered if the homeworld would ever shine as brightly as it once did.” He and the older woman shared a somber glance. “But you! Your administration has managed to restore so much in so little time! I knew you were destined for great things, Mollari, I’ve always said— ”

The older woman laughed softly. “Oh yes, you should hear him. Every time you make a public address, he can hardly speak of anything else for days.”

“Tanyth,” Orestes chided affectionately. “Don’t pretend you’re not just as fascinated by the reforms his Majesty is undertaking.” He took her gloved hand and made a show of kissing each knuckle, which soon degenerated into playful bickering and lovers’ babble. 

Londo cleared his throat. “Yes, well, our administration deeply appreciates your support, though we still have a long road ahead of us. Someday soon, perhaps, we will have things back the way we remember them.” The way he spoke to Orestes—restrained, humble, self-effacing—was a complete reversal of how he’d presented himself to the delegates. Definitely a superior officer, G’Kar decided.

“Nonsense! As far as I can tell, the court hasn’t changed a bit,” Orestes observed, peeling back the curtains to survey the crowd below. Then he gestured to the silent woman, the one G’Kar supposed was his newest bride. “Maridice here hails from one of the border worlds, and it’s always been her dream to attend a party at the Royal Palace. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Yes, it’s what I’ve always wanted since I was a girl,” answered Maridice, both hands wrapped around her glass. 

Orestes squeezed her hip and flashed Londo a helpless grin. “How could I refuse?”

“Your wife is very beautiful,” Londo said, carefully neutral, as if remarking on a sunset or a floral bouquet. He nodded to Maridice. “We hope the evening lives up to your expectations.”

Maridice lowered her gaze and uttered an almost inaudible ‘thank you’. 

Tanyth’s lips puckered. “That’s ‘thank you, Majesty!” she snapped, then in the same breath, leaned over Orestes’ lap to cup Maridice’s cheek. “Don’t look so glum, sweet thing. The emperor has paid you a compliment.”

“Thank you, Majesty,” Maridice repeated, a little louder. 

G’Kar had never seen Londo’s smile fade so quickly. His posture tensed, his gaze anxiously flitting between the three of them. G’Kar couldn’t be sure exactly what prompted such a dramatic shift—it was plain to see that the girl was terrified, but that was hardly unheard of with these sorts of marriages, an issue of which most Centauri were accustomed to turn a blind eye—but perhaps there was some nuance to the conversation he was missing. 

“You’ll have to forgive her, Majesty, she’s still lacking in certain… graces,” crooned Tanyth, brushing a fingernail along Maridice’s lips. “We’ve been instructing her for months, but she’s so dreadfully shy.”

“That’s quite alright. Aren’t they all?” said Londo, then reached for his previously untouched glass. He took a drink, grimacing, presumably, at the taste. 

Tanyth cast her husband a flirtatious look. “I wasn’t,” she said, and let out a high peal of laughter. Orestes soon joined in.

While the couple distracted themselves with one another, G’Kar crept out from the corner where he’d stationed himself after delivering their drinks. He bent down to Londo’s ear and whispered in English, “Downstairs. I saw Ilyashi. Piro wasn’t with him, but I’m sure he must be here somewhere.”

“Good. We’ll find him,” Londo responded in kind, relieved to hear it. “Anything to not have to listen to any more of this. Let’s go back downstairs and—“

“One of these days, Mollari, you’ll have to tell me how you managed to bring such a noble creature under your control.” 

G’Kar must have done a better job of playing the role of a servant than he’d anticipated. Though he’d been in view the whole time, Orestes pointed at him as if he’d just noticed his presence. He stood up straight and bowed at the acknowledgment. Expecting Londo to give a repeat performance from the previous day’s negotiations, G’Kar was surprised when he glared Orestes right in the eye and said, “I think you’ll find that a little respect goes a long way.”

“Did you hear that, dear?” He turned to Tanyth for confirmation. “That’s exactly what I’ve always thought! I was there on Narn, you know—a few years back. I disapproved of it from the beginning. My opinion was in the minority, of course, so I was overruled, but… the bombardment, the occupation, the executions, all that unnecessary brutality.” He huffed with disapproval. “As far as I’m concerned, we had our chance to do good for those people and we lost it when we resorted to keeping them in chains. I couldn’t believe it when I heard that you were among those who supported it. I knew it had to be Refa, setting you up to take the fall when things went badly.”

Was this supposed to be flattery? A threat? Or worse, G’Kar suspected it might be what Orestes actually believed. G’Kar studied Londo’s reaction for insight, but Londo didn’t seem to know what to make of it, either. 

“I’m glad to know my respect for you was not misplaced.” His smile took on a predatory edge. ”Truly, Narns are a peaceful, docile people, eager to serve when treated with kindness.”

Despite Londo’s noble attempts to shield G’Kar from the ignorance of his people, his efforts could only target the most flagrant disrespect, and though Londo would be loath to admit it, there was a great deal that escaped his notice. G’Kar didn’t let it trouble him—the whispers, the scoffs, the lingering glares. He’d always preferred to have these things out in the open, and he was more than capable of fighting his own battles. For all their posturing, most Centauri were cowards at heart who would shrink at the slightest challenge. He enjoyed provoking them, savouring the shock and scandal his presence could elicit. Between Lord Piro’s flinching fear and Orestes’ leering grin, there was no question of which he’d rather put up with. 

Before Londo had time to formulate a response, or better, an excuse to leave, Tanyth piped up. “What’s his name? Does he speak any Centauri?”

Londo turned to G’Kar expectantly, switching to English again to ask, “Well? Do you?”

“At times like this, I wish I didn’t.”

G’Kar had spoken as little as possible yesterday, but beyond the barely fictional backstory Londo had come up with, they hadn’t established any firm rules regarding the act. A moment of thought was all it took for G’Kar to decide he’d rather not suffer direct conversation with these people. He shook his head. 

“His name is G’Kar. And not very well, no,” Londo answered. “But… but he understands a great deal, so do watch your tongues around him, yes?” he added defensively. G’Kar could tell that he meant to salvage at least part of his dignity, but in practice, all he’d ensured was that they’d soon be speaking to him very slowly and at great volume. Predictably, neither of them looked particularly abashed. Maridice, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped cringing since they’d arrived. She winced every time G’Kar met her eyes, so he endeavoured not to.

“G’Kar, hm?” Orestes’ eyes raked over him, gleaming with approval. “What a lovely spot pattern he has. I’ve never seen them quite so round before.”

Londo leaned forward, putting himself between G’Kar and Orestes. “Ah, please refrain from touching him, he can still be rather—“

“Does he know any tricks, Majesty?” Tanyth interrupted, her curiosity evidently unsatisfied. 

Londo looked back and forth between her and G’Kar, his face very red by now. G’Kar raised his brow and turned away, indicating that he’d relinquished his say in the matter. He’d begun this charade with the intention of bolstering Londo’s authority—the least he could do in return was exercise it. “N-no, my lady. He does not do well in front of an audience, I’m afraid.”

“Who said anything about an audience? We’re all friends here!" Orestes promptly threw an arm around Tanyth. She laid her head against her husband’s shoulder, pouting. 

“We, ah… I—I don’t think…” Londo stammered out, flustered, wiping his hands over the folds of his jacket. 

G’Kar couldn’t take it anymore. The next time Londo fixed his desperate gaze upon him, G’Kar dropped to his knees at his side. Without breaking eye contact, he subtly reached down to tap the back of Londo’s booted calf, prompting him to raise it. Londo hesitated, gaping down G’Kar with a look that said he’d rather break the illusion—damn the proposal, the delegates, and the Alliance—than go along with this. G’Kar tapped again, insisting. 

Londo bit his lip, pushing back the shock and replacing it with something more admiring. He shrugged to Orestes, playing off his reluctance as a token show of propriety over his pet. He lifted his leg slightly, presenting the toe of his leather boot. G’Kar dipped his head to brush his lips against the tip—curt and respectful. Before Londo had a chance to withdraw, he worked his way upward, kissing the arch of his foot, nuzzling his ankle. Despite the situation and all that had led up to it, he prolonged the moment, indulging in the sensuality of the gesture and the rare opportunity to kiss Londo outside the confines of their bedroom.

Behind him, G’Kar could hear clapping. “Marvelous, just marvelous,” came Orestes’ verdict. “Your pet is truly a wonder. I can see why you choose to keep him around.”

“I think he deserves a reward,” giggled Tanyth. “Don’t you, dear?”

Londo shook his head, dismissing the notion. “That will not be necessary, it pleases him enough to—“

But Orestes persisted. He braced an arm against the table and leaned forward, motioning for Londo to come closer. “Mollari, there’s something we’ve been meaning to ask you…” he said, then lowered his voice, cupping a hand over his mouth. G’Kar couldn’t make out whatever followed, but he recognized the dawning horror on Londo’s face as he tracked Orestes’ gaze—first to G’Kar, then lingering on Maridice.

“Of course, you’d be welcome to join us, Majesty,” Tanyth said out loud, wholly approving. “He is your pet, after all. And she is ours.”

Londo recoiled as if he’d been struck, then, immediately turned to G'Kar. His lips were pressed into a thin line, like he couldn’t bear to repeat the obscene proposition. He swallowed hard, then turned to Orestes with one of those scowls he wore so well—the kind that would grace every statue ever carved in his likeness, should his reign be one to remember. 

“No,” he said, just as firmly as he’d spoke to Lord Piro the previous afternoon. “G’Kar is not interested in such things, and neither are we. Now, if you will excuse us, the feast is about to begin. Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Without another word, he parted the curtains and walked out, dragging G’Kar behind him. In the hall below, G’Kar could see the main table being cleared and reset in preparation for the feast. Londo walked past the staircase and toward an adjacent corridor of the mezzanine that wrapped around the length of the hall. His presence would be required soon enough, G’Kar supposed, but after the stifling company of Orestes and his wives, he figured they both could use some room to breathe before descending back into the fray.

Londo ducked behind the shelter of a pillar, leaning over the railing to watch the crowd through the shattered light of the hanging chandelier. “To think, I once considered Orestes an honourable man.”

“I find that hard to believe,” said G’Kar, crossing his arms, his back against the pillar. “Could it not be that you have since revised your opinion of what constitutes ‘honourable’?”

Londo squinted at him, perhaps trying to decide whether to take that as a compliment or insult. G’Kar hadn’t meant it as either. “No, you don’t understand. Orestes was the leader of my squadron when I was first commissioned—he had achieved the rank of _exaltas_ barely out of his first year, but he never once looked down on his recruits. He believed in all of us, even when we didn’t believe in ourselves. I remember him so clearly, greeting us at our first day of training with a bucket and a supply of towels. We thought that was funny until he started putting us through the simulations. By the end, half of us were clinging onto that bucket for dear life. When I successfully executed my first 10g turn, he was the one who hauled me, unconscious, out of the pilot’s seat and then took us all out to celebrate. When he was promoted, I was chosen as his successor.” He smiled at the memory, shaking his head. “But that was a long time ago. None of us are who we used to be, hm?”

G’Kar was tempted to point out that juvenile recollections did not amount to a discerning judgment of character. More likely, the combination of fond memories and the intervening years had served to elevate this man to the status of a legend in Londo’s mind. But there was no arguing with nostalgia; the best he could do was try to keep Londo focused and in the present.

“I don’t like the way he was treating that girl,” said G’Kar. 

“Neither do I!” Londo shot back. “I am as disgusted by it as you are. But what do you expect me to do about it? She _is_ his wife.”

“And you are the emperor.”

“That’s not…” Londo sighed. When G’Kar looked closely, he could see that Londo’s hands trembled around the railing. “I have the power to grant divorces, but I cannot order them. Under the law, the only person with that authority is the husband,” he explained. “Or the woman’s family, in extreme circumstances.”

“Then your laws are barbaric and you should change them. Is that not among the functions of your office? You are the _emperor_ , Mollari,” G’Kar repeated, fed up with Londo’s helpless act. He’d given him the same justification when they’d discovered Na’Toth in the dungeons a year earlier—imprisoned and left to rot through sheer negligence—and even then, G’Kar had been able to convince him to find a way to free her. He had only been the Prime Minister then. He was the emperor now, with near unlimited executive and judicial power over dozens of worlds, and yet he somehow expected G’Kar to believe that his hands were tied. 

“These things take time, G’Kar. I cannot simply repeal legislation held for centuries with the snap of a finger. Especially not now, not when things are already—“

“Majesty! There you are!”

Before Londo had gathered enough momentum for a proper lecture, a breathless servant appeared at the end of the corridor. “We’ve been searching all over for you. It’s time for you to lead the toast.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll be right along,” he called to the servant, then turned to face the stairs. Over his shoulder, he cast a glare at G’Kar. “We’ll talk about this later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Londo and G’Kar continue their act at a public banquet. While there, they encounter one of Londo’s old military friends who’s attending the party with his two wives. After witnessing G’Kar acting as Londo’s pet, his military friend offers to let G’Kar have sex with the younger of his two wives while he and Londo watch. Londo is disgusted and they leave. G’Kar is offended by the way Londo’s old friend was treating his wife, but Londo insists that it isn’t any of their business.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is kinda where shit hits the fan. Click down to the endnotes if you want a little more warning about what's coming up.

In the time they’d spent arguing, the palace staff had finished preparing the long table for the feast. The flavourful appetizers had been cleared and replaced with more substantial fare: golden brivari instead of the sweet pink drink, pickled _kravus_ eggs, _rikling_ stew, and at the center of the table laid the carcass of a whole _chakat_ , roasted to perfection and elegantly carved. The charred skull of the beast topped the display, its mouth propped open and overflowing with fruit, its horns strung through with ribbons and bells. The tongue, G’Kar had heard, was a delicacy reserved for honoured guests.

Under normal circumstances, he’d have to wait for leftovers. Paradoxically, protecting Londo at these events meant that he couldn’t always remain at his side. It meant monitoring entrances and exits, checking guests for concealed weapons, coordinating with the rest of the palace guard to prevent incidents before they happened. Tonight, however, he was seated at Londo’s right hand with a plate of his own. There were at least five forks of different shapes and sizes and he didn’t know what to do with any of them. 

From the head of the table, Londo tapped his spoon against his glass to calm the chatter. Then he stood up and raised his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen. We thank you for joining us on this holy occasion of Vors Junifora. Today, we…” 

_Junifora_. G’Kar vaguely remembered hearing the name bandied about in the weeks prior. As Londo went on, he realized that he should have recognized it, indeed, because he’d helped Londo write this very speech, refining his word choices for eloquence and emphasis. It started with a gruesome tale about the origins of the holiday—something about a mythical feud between Li, their goddess of life and passion, and Junifor, a legendary Centauri hunter, over the slaying of one of her favoured beasts. It ended with a trite moral lesson about the elevated status of the Centauri in the natural order and the wider universe, to which the crowd gladly raised their glasses. He continued, gracefully tying the themes of the myth into the more recent conflicts facing the Republic, congratulating their triumphs and lamenting their sacrifices. At that, the crowd cheered and clinked their glasses. G’Kar lifted his own, but did not drink. 

The speech couldn’t end soon enough for G’Kar, whose attention was fixed on a particularly juicy slice of _chakat_. When the time came, he helped himself to it and a generous side of stew. To his surprise, the meat was tougher and fresher than most Centauri dishes he’d tasted. In the spirit of the holiday, he’d gathered, the beast had been brought down in the traditional fashion from one of the palace’s newly restored hunting grounds. 

He’d just started on the stew when Londo elbowed him and gestured across the room. With everyone arranged around the main table or at the many smaller ones clustered nearby, they now had a much clearer view of the hall. At one of the smaller tables sat Ilyashi and the tall woman with flowers in her hair. One of those flowers was now fastened to Ilyashi’s lapel as they talked and laughed over their meal. 

“You didn’t tell me he’d met Lishar!” said Londo, nudging G’Kar again with a smile on his face. 

“The woman he’s sitting with?” G’Kar mumbled through a mouthful of _rikling_. 

“Lishar Guillarno,” Londo replied. “Daughter of Niccolo Guillarno, our Minister of Agriculture. I knew he’d been searching for appropriate suitors for his daughter, so last night I called him to offer a suggestion and… a little incentive.”

“Are you telling me that you paid a man to have his daughter seduce a noble delegate?” G’Kar huffed, unwilling to give Londo the benefit of the doubt at the moment. 

“No, G’Kar. All I asked was for him to relay her an invitation to the party to meet Ilyashi—just to meet him and see how they get along. Lord Guillarno is nothing if not an indulgent father. Lishar has rejected over twenty potential suitors he's introduced, and so far, he’s never forced the matter. If she does not approve, well…”

When G’Kar glanced back to their table, Ilyashi was examining one of the _kravus_ eggs. He must have made an amusing observation, because Lishar started laughing, then reached over to pluck it out of his hands. She took a fork and and proceeded to puncture a ring around the circumference of the egg. Then, with a twist of her hand, the top half of the shell popped off like a cap. She handed it back to Ilyashi, who reacted with a look of awe and wonderment that only made her laugh harder.

“And if she does?”

“Then Lord Piro will know that the throne keeps its promises.” With that, he picked up an egg from a nearby platter, opened it in the same way Lishar had demonstrated, and offered it to G’Kar.

The rest of the meal went smoothly. Whether it was by choice or coincidence, Londo had surrounded himself with his closest advisors, courtiers, and ministers, all faces that G’Kar recognized, but few he could put a name to. Conversation was light and perfunctory, and mostly concerned the quality of the food and drink in between clumsy attempts to boast of recent accomplishments in the company of the emperor. If any of them were surprised by G’Kar’s presence at the table, they didn’t remark upon it. He supposed it was true what Londo had once told him about the court’s unwillingness to notice anything beyond what they expected. He might have been disappointed if it weren’t for the memory of Orestes’ smile lingering at the back of his mind. 

His attention split between his dinner guests, the crowd, and the fledgling courtship of Ilyashi and Lishar, Londo barely had a chance to touch his meal. That wasn’t strange except for the fact that he wasn’t drinking either. Every lull in the discussion had him shuffling food around on his plate or staring listlessly into his glass. Something was troubling him. That much was certain, but G’Kar couldn’t tell whether it had to do with their failure to locate Lord Piro or their argument on the mezzanine. Could what he said to Londo have distressed him that much? 

Londo’s dour mood lasted until the meal was almost over and the servants began clearing the table for desserts—across the room, something captured his interest. G’Kar followed his gaze, landing on a familiar figure making his way through the hall. Piro walked beneath the shade of the columns as if deliberately trying to keep out of sight. He moved with purpose, weaving through clusters of guests towards some unknown destination. 

Under the din of conversation, Londo was muttering under his breath. “No, no, no…”

“What is it?” G’Kar asked before he saw it, too. 

Piro was headed in a direct line for a table at the outer edge of the room, around which sat Admiral Orestes and his wives. He quickened his pace, nearly bowling over a passing servant in his haste, calling out when he stepped into earshot. It was Maridice who turned her head. She nearly leapt from her seat as Piro approached, letting out a joyful gasp as he wrapped her in a warm embrace. He let go before she did, pulling away to kiss Tanyth’s hand and lock arms with Orestes. Both men bowed to one another, their faces brimming with pride. G’Kar couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they spoke with an air of mutual respect and familiarity. Both frequently gestured to Maridice, asking her questions, to which she gave nods, brief answers, and that sad, strained smile. She kept one hand attached to Piro’s sleeve. 

G’Kar and Londo exchanged a look. “I should have known, I should have seen it. Orestes said she was from one of the border worlds, but—“

“Do you think he knows?” asked G’Kar, his grasp on the intricacies of Centauri familial interaction not quite up to the task. In addition to the jewels and the pink gown, Maridice now wore a shimmering silver shawl to cover her shoulders and back. Yet all of them appeared surprised by Piro’s arrival. Perhaps Orestes simply didn’t show off his wife indiscriminately. 

Londo tilted his head to the side before he realized what G’Kar was asking. He cast a look back to the table, studying them for a long moment. “No,” he pronounced with mild conviction. “No, I don’t think so. Lord Piro may be a blustering fool, but he does not strike me as… that sort of man.”

G’Kar nodded his agreement, a second question waiting on the tip of his tongue. He already knew what Londo would say, so he didn’t voice it just yet. Though he’d barely indulged tonight, Londo took a long drink from his glass, his gaze drifting over to wherever the music was emanating from. The previously slow, lilting melody had suddenly picked up. The younger contingent of partygoers were already flocking together, choosing their dance partners. Where the crowd thinned, G’Kar caught sight of Ilyashi and Lishar at the centre of the floor, dancing along to the lively tune. Ilyashi didn’t seem to know where to put his hands until Lishar placed them firmly at her sides, but he had a good sense of rhythm and managed to keep up with the steps. 

“Telling Lord Piro about this is out of the question," Londo began cautiously. "He would never believe it. Already, he mistrusts us. At best, he would take this information as insult upon his family’s honour. At worst, an attempt at manipulation. He would walk away thinking us more corrupt than he did already. It would not do any good for anyone—Maridice, least of all.”

G’Kar raised his brow, sensing a ‘but’ coming.

“But—“ He took another sip of brivari. “I believe there is a way we can show him.”

“No, absolutely not,” G’Kar stated. “Under no circumstances will I lay hands on that girl for their amusement. She’s terrified enough as it is.”

“Yes, but if we can show Lord Piro how Orestes and his first-wife have been treating his daughter? He will demand a divorce on her behalf, and she will no longer have to—”

G’Kar crossed his arms and shook his head. 

“Very well, then,” said Londo, surprisingly willing to drop the matter. “It’s only that you felt so strongly that it was our business—no, our obligation to intervene that I…” He took a wavering breath, lowering his eyes. “You were right to remind me of that, G’Kar—you always are. How can we expect to improve the Republic if we cannot stop such things from taking place here in the Royal Palace? If I cannot use my position to defend the honour of one of my subjects, then what good am I as emperor?” Under the table, G’Kar felt Londo’s hand cover his own. Londo’s voice fell to a whisper. “Nevertheless, I understand your reluctance. We will find another way.” The relief that washed over Londo’s face let G’Kar know that he meant it. 

“Will you?” G’Kar said quietly to himself, then again to Londo. “Will you extend your authority on behalf of that girl? You must understand, it is not only her honour that is at stake.”

“Of course.” He squeezed G’Kar’s hand. “I am not ignorant of the risk to you. Like I said last night, this is exactly the sort of thing I was worried about. What else do you think I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

In spite of Londo’s assurances, G’Kar couldn’t escape the vivid image of Lord Piro and Admiral Orestes—horrified and humiliated in equal measure—prepared to sever all financial and familial ties to each other’s houses, threatening ruin upon each other’s name, on the verge of tearing each other’s throats out… unless provided with a convenient scapegoat.

 _Trust_. That is what it all came down to—again and again. He’d trusted Londo with his life before, under circumstances far more dire than this, where death was his only alternative. This time, at least, he was being offered a choice. 

“There is a difference, Mollari, between protecting my reputation and avoiding situations in which you would be called upon to do so,” G’Kar said.

G’Kar felt Londo tense for a moment. “G’Kar,” he said, gently withdrawing his arm from G’Kar’s grasp. “I admit that things have been difficult lately, and I know it must seem to you as if I’ve lost sight of this, but… you must understand that all of this? The proposal, the delegation, the Alliance—none of it matters to me as much as you do. I would gladly sacrifice all of it to keep you here at my side. I told you when this all began that as long as you’re here as my bodyguard and my guest, I would allow no harm to come to you. I meant that. I can protect you and I will.”

The raw sincerity in Londo’s tone was almost too much to bear. “G’Quan preserve me…” he sighed, then nodded his assent. From one of the recently supplied dessert trays, he grabbed a handful of wrapped candies. One, he popped in his mouth, stashing the others in his pocket. In much the same spirit, Londo guzzled the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down hard on the table. 

When G’Kar had last checked, Piro was still enjoying Orestes’ company. Londo didn’t seem to care, however, leading G’Kar on a circuitous path across the floor. He paused every so often to greet guests he’d previously ignored, summoning up the enthusiasm to engage in their loud banter and cackle at their terrible jokes—always within sight of the table. The next time G’Kar looked, Piro was in the middle of a hurried exit, making his excuses to Orestes, leaving Maridice with a kiss on the cheek. 

That was when they made their approach. Londo swaggered up to the table, addressing Orestes again like old friends, only this time with his best drunken slur. Orestes’ eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed to slits. Evidently, he had not forgotten the way Londo had stormed out after rejecting their proposition. “Why if it isn’t his Majesty! We…” he said, gesturing in a circle around the table, “did not expect to see you again so soon.”

Londo lifted one eyebrow, feigning confusion before erupting with laughter. “Oh, Admiral—I should call you that, yes?” He wrapped one arm around Orestes’ shoulders, pressing his cheek to his epaulet. “What I said up there? Don’t tell me you have been taking that seriously?”

Now it was Orestes’ turn to look confused. He and Tanyth exchanged worried glances. Maridice stared down into her lap. “Majesty…?” Orestes chuckled nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. We assumed you made your meaning perfectly clear when—“

“And I implore you to accept my humblest apologies.” Londo clasped both of Orestes’ hands. “I should have known you would misunderstand my intentions. The palace is a very different place than you remember. Ah, there once was a time when a man of my position could do whatever he wished, take his pleasures as he pleased…” He clicked his tongue.

Orestes’ skepticism slowly turned to intrigue as Londo continued. Tanyth pursed her lips over her glass of brivari.

“It may surprise you to learn that not everyone here approves of my administration. There are those who will use any misstep, any whisper of scandal to to compromise my authority and put an end to my reign.” He turned around, as if scanning the room for conspirators. “So you see, I can never be too careful about where I go, what I do, and…”—he turned around, his gaze settling on Maridice— “with whom I associate.”

“I see. And have these threats against your Majesty’s rule been… taken care of?” asked Tanyth. 

“Yes, my lady,” said Londo.

“Just to get this straight,” said Orestes, his lips twisting again into that horrible smile. “You _are_ still interested?”

“Very much.”

G’Kar held his breath just watching Londo’s intoxicated, ingratiating act. Not for a moment could he mistake that empty exuberance for affection or his lascivious gaze for desire. Nor did he understand how anyone could. Still, it was enough to win over Orestes, who threw a satisfied look in Tanyth’s direction and said, “See, dear, I told you he’d come around!” He clapped Londo on the shoulder. “There’s the Mollari I know!”

The plan was simple. G’Kar was to follow Orestes and Tanyth back upstairs to one of the curtained enclosures. Londo would claim to have some quick business to attend to and that he would join them shortly. In reality, he would search the hall until he’d located Piro again. Once he did, Londo would proceed to harangue him about his delayed answer to the proposal, ordering him upstairs to discuss the matter in private. From there, the only thing left was for Londo to ‘accidentally’ shift the curtain of an occupied lounge and the rest would take care of itself. 

G’Kar would be alone with them for ten minutes at most. Barely enough time for anything inappropriate to take place, but more than enough to set the scene. Londo made it sound so easy, but as G’Kar watched him vanish into the crowd, his confidence vanished with him. With Tanyth and Orestes beckoning from the stairs, he hesitantly touched Maridice’s hand— _shall we_?

Maridice stiffened, her teeth dragging over her painted bottom lip. But the girl was nothing if not dutiful. They started walking. Lingering a few steps behind Orestes, G’Kar took the risk of reaching down to retrieve two of the candies he’d pocketed. He unwrapped one for himself and subtly offered the other to Maridice. To her credit, she restrained her shock, eyeing the gift with suspicion. “Thank you,” she said, barely more than a reflex. 

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back in Centauri.

At that, she stopped and gasped aloud, one hand braced on the railing. “You do speak Centauri?” When she spoke unprompted, G’Kar could hear the accent she shared with Ilyashi and Piro. 

G’Kar nodded, then glanced to Orestes and Tanyth, who walked ahead of them arm in arm. “Yes, and I’m going to have to stop talking in a moment, but I’d like to make one thing clear—for whatever it’s worth to you, I don’t want to be here, either.”

“What?” she asked. 

“The emperor wants to dissolve your marriage and send you home,” he said, garnering a blank look from Maridice. “Back to your homeworld with your father and your cousin Ilyashi.”

“My father?” Hope blossomed in her face for an instant, but faded just as quickly. “No, no… my father, he—he can’t see me like this, I can’t—“

“What’s wrong, sweet thing?” Tanyth called from the top of the stairs. She and Orestes stood at the landing, glowering down at the two of them. 

Maridice tucked a hand over her mouth. “Nothing, it’s just…” She leaned forward, cautiously releasing the railing. “It’s my shoe again. The heel got caught on the hem of my dress. Clumsy, clumsy…” Carefully, she bent down to adjust her skirts. Between the incline and her burden of frills and finery, it was a veritable feat of coordination. G’Kar moved in to offer his arm, partially shielding her from view so as to continue their conversation.

“Listen.” He leaned in closer. “Do you want to go home?” 

She nodded emphatically. “More than anything, but… my father, he doesn’t like Narns. If he sees me with you, I’m afraid—“

“And I don’t like your father,” said G’Kar, smiling despite the situation. “But I swear to you that the emperor is prepared to defend my honour and yours, if need be.”

“What about my—ah, what about Tanyth and Calvatore?” she asked, the panic leaking back into her tone. “What if they order you to…” 

G’Kar’s grin widened. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t speak Centauri.”

If he could, he would have liked to reassure her, explain everything, and work out a plan of action that would make this easier on both of them. But their audience was growing impatient. “Look at them, dear! He’s already half in love with her,” came Tanyth again. Orestes already had an arm cinched around her waist. He pressed a kiss to Tanyth’s cheek, which sent her into a fit of giggles. “Come along, Maridice.” 

Maridice made a valiant attempt to return G’Kar’s good humour, but the smile she gave was all nerves. Before straightening up, she took the candy he’d hidden in his palm, quickly unwrapped it, and crunched it between her teeth. 

Tanyth and Orestes threw themselves at one another the moment they stepped into the enclosure and drew the curtains behind them. Like amorous youth, they fumbled at each other’s clothes, showering each other in kisses that only ended when one of them needed to draw breath. Theirs was an old dance, a spontaneous rhythm that made their movements seem effortless, every touch deliberate. Orestes almost tripped onto the couch, dragging Tanyth along into his lap. Pleased with the arrangement, Tanyth hitched up her dress to straddle her husband, her back pressed to his chest. G’Kar seated himself at the opposite couch, relieved when Maridice took her place at the other end, as far away from him as possible. The longer they could draw this out, the better. 

“G’Kar!” No sooner than he’d thought this might not be so bad after all, Orestes crowed at him over Tanyth’s shoulder. “What are you waiting for, my good man? She’s ready for you.” 

G’Kar cringed at the way his name fell so casually from the man’s lips. If they were going to treat him like a beast, they might as well speak to him like one—‘you’ or ‘Narn’ would have been less galling. To the order, he merely tilted his head to the side like he hadn’t the faintest clue of what Orestes wanted. A second’s delay could make all the difference. 

Orestes wasn’t discouraged, however. “Come now, watch…” He unbuttoned Tanyth’s dress, then worked the laces of the corset she had on underneath, loosening it enough to slip his hand through. “Like that, see?”

G’Kar looked to Maridice. He could easily pretend not to understand Centauri, but he’d rather not pretend to be stupid as well. She gave a subtle nod, her cheeks dipping in and out as she worked the candy fragments still in her mouth. He started with his gauntlets and gloves—if only to prove to her that he wasn’t hiding claws underneath.

Maridice watched, but didn’t move any closer. 

“Good, good…” Orestes murmured, stroking Tanyth’s shoulders.

“Hurry up, Maridice!” Tanyth snapped, then smiled sweetly at G’Kar. “You’ll have to forgive her, darling, she’s still young and all this might still be overwhelming for her. Where she comes from, nobles tend to be a great deal less, ah…”—her back arched when Orestes’ hands moved lower—“open minded.”

Maridice squeezed her eyes shut and abruptly let the shawl drop from her shoulders. She inched closer to G’Kar, who turned up his palms, inviting her to touch if she chose. He held his breath as she gingerly examined his hands, letting her turn them over to see the small spots that covered him up to the knuckles. She gazed up at him, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. He smiled, then gently touched her arm. 

“That’s right, just like that. Touch her,” said Orestes, his gaze freezing them both in place. Maridice jerked away, now looking at his hand like it was diseased. G’Kar stayed perfectly still, trying to focus on Maridice and not the snap of buttons and heavy breathing coming from the other couch. He waited until her fear subsided to try again, this time resting his hands at her shoulders.

Eventually, Maridice’s breathing evened out. She settled herself almost in G’Kar’s lap, searching his face with eyes that seemed to be asking for permission. 

“That’s it, right there—“

“Lean back, love…“

Heavy breathing gave way to grunts and gasps and clipped cries of encouragement. G’Kar’s attention wandered to the other couch, unsure if they were still watching them until he felt Maridice’s hand cup his cheek. Her lips parted, perhaps at the texture of his skin—thicker than a Centauri’s, but smoother, lacking the thin hair that covered even their infants. He kept his expression neutral, letting her set the pace. It felt like an eternity had passed already—what could be keeping Londo?

Her eyes were a lovely shade of green, G’Kar realized as he found himself looking straight into them. She didn’t flinch anymore, which was a refreshing change, but the last thing he needed was for his body to start mistaking her complicity for enthusiasm.

Orestes let out a heady groan. “Kiss her,” he urged. Tanyth gyrated on top of him, obscuring the view, but G’Kar caught a flash of movement between their bodies. “Go on, she won’t mind.” In case G’Kar hadn’t understood, he angled Tanyth’s face towards him to bring her in for a kiss. Already so close, separated by mere inches, it would have been easy to kiss Maridice. But her husband had startled her and he was beginning to see the fear seep back into her face. He nuzzled her hand, letting his lips brush her fingertips. 

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.” 

Maridice closed her eyes, instead, blindly leaning into G’Kar. When their lips touched, it wasn’t so much a kiss as it was a collision. Her nose against his cheek, her lips at the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, correcting her aim until he could taste the candy on her lips. G’Kar guessed that he probably tasted of the same, because he felt her laughter bubble against him. She was giggling when they broke—high and nervous, but genuine. It was an silly little secret, but it was theirs.

Commotion in the hallway. Footsteps steadily thudding closer. G’Kar craned his neck to hear voices raised in argument—one of them was Londo’s. Orestes and Tanyth didn’t seem to notice, but relief flooded through G’Kar at the sound of Londo’s familiar ranting. He gripped Maridice tighter as the footsteps got louder. “I’m going to kiss you again, Maridice. Just one more time. On the count of three—” 

Maridice nodded, still trembling with suppressed laughter. “One.”

Through the gauzy curtains, he could see two figures making their way towards them. “Two.”

The footsteps stopped outside the lounge. “Three.”

His lips were on hers when he heard a rustle of fabric behind him. “Orestes! What is the meaning of this?!” G’Kar turned around to see Londo beholding the scene with an expression of unbridled fury. Lord Piro’s head rose over his shoulder, his mouth falling open at his first glimpse of Maridice in the arms of a Narn. 

“Mollari?” Orestes jolted, wincing as whatever number of appendages he’d been using to please his wife abruptly retracted. “I… we…” he stammered for a moment as Tanyth extricated herself from his grasp. “Why, I could ask you the same question! And Mehen, what are you doing here?” His attention flitted to Lord Piro. “I… I assure you, this isn’t what it looks like. The emperor—”

Piro wasn’t listening. He pushed past Londo to crouch at Maridice’s side. He took her by the wrists to pull her to her feet and away from G’Kar. “Are you all right, Mari? Did it hurt you?” Maridice shook her head, opened her mouth to answer, but her voice cracked into a sob. Holding her in his arms, Piro’s gaze passed from Orestes, to G’Kar, and finally found a target in Londo. “Majesty, this is unconscionable! I knew that… that _beast_ of yours was trouble from the moment I set eyes on it. That your Majesty would allow such a creature to dishonour one of my blood is beyond insult. I ought to—“

Londo didn’t move. He clasped his hands behind his back, leaving Piro shouting into the empty air. “Come here, G’Kar,” he said.

G’Kar obeyed. Londo immediately stepped in front of him. 

“Lord Piro, we are as offended by this as you are, but what has happened here can be no fault of G’Kar’s. He is our servant and ours alone. Do you mean to imply that we ordered him to do this?”

“N-no, Majesty!” Piro balked at the suggestion, though his eyes told a different story. “Only that while your Majesty’s back was turned, your pet has acted in in accordance with its natural impulses and—“

“Nonsense!” Londo shouted over him. “G’Kar would never do anything of the kind unless threatened or coerced, which...”—he looked past Piro to Orestes, who was currently tending to his wife’s corset—“is clearly what happened here. Perhaps you ought to have taken greater care in selecting an appropriate match for your daughter.”

Piro scrutinized the two men. If not wholly convinced this wasn’t some political ploy, he was at least satisfied that he was not its intended target. “Mehen, I promise, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Orestes started again, his confidence returning now that most of his clothes were fastened. “We were… ah—“

“Manipulated,” Tanyth finished. She wiped away smeared lip paint from her cheek. 

Piro narrowed his eyes. “I take it that you and the emperor know one another?”

Tanyth was about to answer before Londo broke in. “Indeed, Lord Piro. We served with Admiral Orestes in the Royal Navy many years ago. Until now, we thought him the very portrait of gallantry and honour. Which is how we made the error of allowing our servant to be left alone in his presence.” His words were meant for Piro, but he glanced back to G’Kar as he spoke. “It brings us no pleasure to learn that our esteem was misplaced.”

Orestes pushed his way between them. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Mollari, but I will not tolerate any more of this slander—in the Royal Palace of all places, and in front of my wives?” His jovial demeanour disintegrating into outrage, he burst into mocking laughter. “How can you speak of honour, when you’re the one who—“

“As we told you before, you shall address us as ‘Majesty’,” Londo shot back in a warning tone. “We fail to see how it is any fault of ours that your wives have been subject to your humiliation. Great Maker, at least tuck in your shirt before casting any more of these ridiculous accusations!”

Paying no heed to the warning, Orestes scoffed, then turned to Lord Piro, who was in the middle of settling Maridice down on the couch again, kissing her cheeks and wiping her tears. “Don’t tell me you believe this? Any fool could see that he’s…“

“That we are… what?” Londo raised his eyebrows.

Orestes didn’t back down, but refused to say any more. 

“Just when will you get it through your head, Orestes?” Londo closed in on him, raising himself to his full height, lifting the pendant he wore from his neck. Though he hardly compared to Orestes in stature, they matched equally in presence. “We are the emperor of the Centauri Republic, second of our name, appointed by the will of the Centaurum and the gods themselves. By the laws of our state and the blessing of the high priestess of Tuwain, we are the legitimate ruler of our people whose every word is truth.” He spread his arms in an expansive gesture, locking eyes with Tanyth, Orestes, and Lord Piro in turn. “We do not lie.”

G’Kar could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that followed—that, and Maridice’s crying, softer than before. In the time they’d spent arguing, she’d recovered enough to speak. “Please, father. It—it’s true. Everything. I didn’t want you to find out because you wanted so much for me to be happy, and I was afraid that…” Another sob overtook her. 

“Afraid of what, Mari?” asked Piro, the unhappy realization twisting his features. “Are you telling me that… this is not the first time?”

Maridice shook her head. 

“There there, sweet thing.” Tanyth crept toward Lord Piro and Maridice. “If only we'd known this would upset you so. There’s no need for tears. You know you can always tell us when you’re feeling overwhelmed?” About to lay a hand on her trembling shoulders, Maridice recoiled. Tanyth clicked her tongue and said to Piro, “I’m sure she’s just tired. Our girl has such a flair for dramatics, hasn’t she?“

Piro held Maridice tighter, his eyes glassy with rage. “I don’t know the half of what’s happened here, and I don’t want to. But Maridice will no longer have any part in it. As soon as I’m able, I swear, I will petition for a divorce, and—“

“Granted.” Londo snapped his fingers.

“What?” Tanyth protested. “Majesty, you can’t possibly—“

“It is already done, my lady,” Londo replied. “No doubt everyone here will be better off for it.”

Maridice clung to her father, her tear-stained face peeking out from under the rise of Piro’s crest. She was still crying, but G’Kar could tell that it was tears of relief. Tanyth and Orestes looked on as Londo offered Piro his hand, helping them both off the couch. Of the two of them, it was Tanyth who kept her eyes on Maridice. Orestes had his hands fisted at his sides, his sights set on Londo with a look G’Kar knew all too well. 

As Londo turned to escort Piro and Maridice back into the hallway, Orestes confronted him, his face contorted with rage. “I always knew you were a cheat, Mollari, but never, ever, would I have believed you would stoop so low. To turn on one of your oldest friends over… what? A _woman_? We served the Republic together, Mollari. Does that mean nothing to you? To think, I thought you were better, more sincere than the rest of those wretched, petty nobles who’d betray their own shadows for a grander title.” Orestes dragged a hand over his brow and snarled. “I swear, I will—“ 

Furious, he lunged for Londo, seizing him by the collar. G’Kar was ready. Orestes may have been stronger and sprier than most Centauri his age, but G’Kar was faster. He sprung from Londo’s opposite side, withdrew the dagger from his belt and, within a matter of seconds, had it poised against Orestes’ throat. He struggled against G’Kar’s clutches, only succeeding in drawing a drop of blood onto the edge of his blade. “Don’t,” G’Kar whispered in his ear.

Londo stood perfectly still, letting Orestes’ rage flow over him like water over a stone. “Unhand me,” he said.

Slowly, and with great reluctance, Orestes loosened his grip. His arms fell to his sides. G’Kar kept the blade at his throat, just in case. 

Londo took a few steps back, straightening his sash. Behind him, Piro ushered Maridice through the open curtain. “You’re lucky our palace guard isn’t here right now or they would have your head for laying hands on me.” He stared at Orestes until he lowered his eyes, then motioned for G’Kar to release him. “For the friend you once were to me, I will let this pass. Guards will arrive shortly to escort you back to the guest wing and keep you and your wife comfortable for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow, you will board the earliest transport back to your homeworld. Is that clear?”

Orestes deferred to Tanyth, who remained on the couch, her hands folded in her lap. G’Kar took the opportunity to gather up his gloves from the couch and to re-sheath his dagger. Under her lashes, Tanyth cast Orestes a sidelong glance, then nodded. 

“As you wish, Majesty,” answered Orestes. 

“Oh, and Orestes?” Londo called out before he and G’Kar let the curtain fall. “It was two-hundred ducats. Not three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of the banquet, Londo and G'Kar find out that the younger of Orestes' two wives is actually the daughter of one of the Sayonese delegates and Londo realizes that he can solve multiple problems at once by allowing her father to walk in on the scene of her husband coercing her to have sex with G’Kar. This doesn’t go much farther than kissing, and G’Kar asks for consent in as much as he can under the circumstances.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I said this would be finished like... over a month ago. Needless to say, that did not happen. But better late than never, right? 
> 
> As always, spoilers in the endnotes.
> 
> (I want to extend a big thanks to [Ibenholt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibenholt/pseuds/Ibenholt) for offering so much encouragement and support and helpful suggestions on this fic (and my work in general). I don't know if I could have finished it if it weren't for you. <3)

As the last hours of festival carried on into the night, nobody noticed when the emperor and his bodyguard slipped away unannounced. Though Londo made it appear as if the divorce was finalized at his word, in reality—as with everything else in the Centauri government—it involved a towering tome of paperwork. After retrieving the relevant documents, he and G’Kar escorted Lord Piro and Maridice back to the guest wing to walk them through the fine print. 

Londo walked slightly ahead of them, making light conversation with Lord Piro that mostly consisted of reassurances and repeated expressions of disbelief that such misfortune could have befallen a member of his family on palace grounds—nevermind that such behaviour barely counted as aberration. Not once did either of them consult Maridice’s opinion on the matter, but perhaps that was for the best, given their own role in the debacle. Maridice walked obediently beside her father, clinging to his arm. G’Kar, a little ways behind, caught her stealing the occasional glance at him over her shoulder. Strange, how quickly she’d gone from avoiding his gaze to craning her neck to see him, unable to tear her eyes away. 

“Your Majesty is sure that once this is finalized, the separation will be complete?” Piro asked as he shut the door behind them. “No loose ends or legal loopholes?” 

“Yes, yes,” Londo said, striding past Piro into the modest suite. As if he owned the place—which, G’Kar supposed, he technically did—he took a seat behind the desk by the window and laid out the documents. “Believe me, I have gone through this very process myself. Twice, in fact. It may be tedious, but it is well worth the effort.”

“I didn’t… ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Piro said gruffly, then hesitated a little too long. He cleared his throat. ”What I said yesterday, about your wives. That was… uncalled for, but your Majesty must know I certainly wasn’t commenting on—“

“Pah, already forgotten!” Londo chuckled, then handed Piro a pen.

For lack of anything better to do, G’Kar sprawled over the couch at the centre of the room. When Londo planned to bring up the matter of the proposal, he didn’t know, but watching him prattle on to Lord Piro, plying his favour, sharing his distress in spite of their standing disagreements, the prospect couldn’t have been far from his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Maridice sink down beside him, her skirts billowing over the cushions. 

Maridice sat quietly, listening to Londo and her father go over the details of her divorce. “It’s strange, being in the same room as the emperor,” she whispered. 

G’Kar rolled his shoulders. He’d spoken to her before and during the ordeal; she was probably wondering why he’d stopped. It didn’t feel right that he should, not after narrowly escaping the blame for Orestes’ misdeeds. But with the emperor and her father ignoring her, she looked like she could use a word of comfort. 

She shuffled closer in spite of his silence. “Somehow, I’d always imagined him taller.”

G’Kar sputtered with laughter behind closed lips. Checking to make sure that Londo and Lord Piro were still engrossed in discussion, he leaned in. “That’s what they want you to think. Whenever he makes a public address, there’s a raised platform behind the podium.”

Whether it was the stress of the ordeal or if the image was really that amusing, Maridice nearly doubled over with giggles. She brought a hand to her mouth just as Lord Piro looked over, concerned. “Mari, it’s all right. It’s over now,” he said. “We’ll get this sorted out, I promise.” Her shawl wrapped tightly around her trembling shoulders, her cheeks blotchy—it was easy to see how one could mistake her laughter for tears. Londo caught G’Kar’s gaze for a moment, glaring daggers at him from across the desk. 

They sat in silence again, Maridice listening attentively to the ensuing discussion while G’Kar drifted in and out. 

“If you’ll place your seal and signature here on page one, then again at the bottom of page thirteen…“

“Wait a moment. What does this clause mean?” Piro interjected. 

“You will have to pay him, I’m afraid,” Londo pointed out, furrowing his brow over the indicated passage. “A recompense equal to whatever he offered you for her hand.” He sighed, drumming his fingers over the desk. “Perhaps we can mitigate that somewhat in light of the circumstances. We shall see if—“

Piro turned back to Maridice again. Every time he did, his resolve seemed to weaken. “Anything you can do will be appreciated, Majesty. No price is too high to have my daughter back.” Maridice gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Once her father’s back was safely turned, she addressed G’Kar again. “Why is the emperor doing this?”

G’Kar blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

Maridice raised her chin in a manner belying her youth, gesturing at the two of them as if it were perfectly obvious. “Please, I’m not so naïve to think that the emperor is helping me out of the kindness of his hearts. There’s something going on between my father and his Majesty, isn’t there? Why else would he be here?”

G’Kar exhaled slowly, the absurdity of the situation sinking in for him now more than ever before. Though it had been G’Kar who originally convinced him that something must be done, it was Londo who came up with the plan. It hadn’t occurred to him that Londo could have had the negotiations on his mind at the time, but to see him now exploiting their success for all it was worth, it didn’t feel right to deny it, either. Not that Maridice would have believed him. She deserved to know the whole story, but instead, he muttered, “It is not my place to say.” 

She seemed to accept that, giving one last longing glance to her father, who now cooperated without question. “Whatever it is, it won’t… hurt our family, will it? 

“That depends on who you ask.”

As if on cue, the door to the suite swung open to reveal Ilyashi and Lishar, fresh from the banquet, their cheeks flushed with drink. “Uncle! I’ve been searching all over for you,” he shouted into the dead hush of the room. “There’s someone I’d like you to…“ He stepped inside, his voice trailing off, eyes widening as he took stock of the room.

Lord Piro looked up. “Not now, Antaro. This is no time for—“

“Mari?” By the time Ilyashi noticed her, Maridice had already risen to greet him. “So it was you I saw at dinner! You were across the hall and I thought it must have been my imagination playing tricks, but…” He looked around again. “Where’s your husband tonight?”

Maridice stood on her toes to wrap her arms around Ilyashi’s shoulders. “I’m coming home,” she said simply. 

“You’re coming home?” Ilyashi asked, simultaneously ecstatic and confused. “For how long? And will—“ He stopped, perhaps feeling the twin glares of Lord Piro and the emperor at his back. His smile faded briefly, then returned no worse for the realization. “Of course, you’re coming home!”

When they broke, he invited Lishar to join them. “Lishar, this is my cousin Maridice, who I was telling you about.”

Lishar inclined her head politely. “Antaro said he’s always thought of you more like a sister. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her voice soft and calming, her manner suggesting she’d picked up more of the situation than Ilyashi had, though nobody had said anything.

“Likewise,” said Maridice, hesitant at first, but she stepped forward so Lishar could offer her the customary kiss on the cheek. “I’m afraid it’s been a long time since Antaro and I have last seen each other. I suppose you must be his…”

“Betrothed,” Lishar finished. “Or soon to be, I hope?” She nudged Ilyashi with her elbow. 

“Betrothed… to be betrothed? Is there a word for that?” Ilyashi laughed, gazing into the eyes of the woman he’d known for the span of an evening and was now preparing to wed—a distinctly Centauri form of infatuation, as far as G’Kar could tell, and one that probably couldn’t last. But his disapproval softened when he heard the tremble in Maridice’s voice as she offered them her congratulations.

Lord Piro, whose patience with his nephew seemed to wane by the moment, finally stood up to shout, “Will someone tell me just what in the name of the gods is going on here!?” He leveled a harsh glare at Ilyashi. “I let you run off on your own for a few hours and already you’ve been taken in by… by this…”

Whirling around to face him, Lishar placed her hands on her hips, as if inviting him to finish his sentence. Considerably taller than Piro and with a noble bearing that transcended the expensive gown she wore, Lishar silenced him with a look. Ilyashi took a belated step forward, having gathered up a measure of drunken bravado. “Her name is Lishar Guillarno. And she’s going to be my wife.” 

“Is that so? I don’t recall being consulted about this.” Piro’s eyes narrowed, as if he recognized the name. 

“We’re consulting you now,” Ilyashi pointed out, his defiant air shading into petulance. “Great Maker, I thought you’d be happy for us. This isn’t just some whim, uncle. I love her.” He clasped Lishar’s hand. 

“Nonsense!” Piro scoffed. “Whatever it is you think you feel, that has nothing to do with whether it’s a suitable match.” He threw up his hands, his anger turning to cold disappointment. “What would your father say?”

Something in Ilyashi snapped at the mention of his father and the two of them began arguing in earnest. The rest of the room seemed to fade into the background as the shouting match escalated. Far beyond the matter of Lishar, their vicious back and forth seemed like only the latest iteration of a deep seated conflict, an outpouring of years’ worth of resentment and frustration. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, G’Kar stood up and snuck across the room. Londo sat calmly behind the desk, reared back in his seat with one hand propped against his chin as if deciding whether to place a bet. 

G’Kar placed a hand on his shoulder. “When exactly do you plan on telling them?”

Londo shrugged. “All in good time,” he replied, facing G’Kar with a smug grin. “Let me enjoy this, will you?”

Taking the hint, G’Kar stepped back to let Londo soak in whatever vicarious thrill he received from the sight of a young nobleman standing up to his family over his choice of spouse. Maridice hadn’t moved, seemingly accustomed to quarrels between them. Lishar, however, pulled Ilyashi back when the argument threatened to get of control. 

“—Besides, it doesn’t matter what you think!” Ilyashi declared, by way of a last word. “You aren’t my father, and Lishar’s family has already agreed, so there is no need for your approval.” 

About to launch into another tirade, Lord Piro stopped in mid-sentence. “The Guillarnos have already agreed? Is that true?” He glanced between Ilyashi and Lishar again, then crossed his arms. “I’ll be eager to learn what sort of outrageous terms they’ll insist upon. Or have you even discussed that part yet?”

“Actually…” Lishar answered in Ilyashi’s place. From one of the many folds of her dress, she pulled out a data crystal and handed it to him. “I think you’ll find the terms of the contract to be quite generous, and thanks to the emperor’s sponsorship, we’re confident the advantage will be mutual.”

While Piro couldn’t have looked any more surprised when Lishar dropped the crystal into his hand, Ilyashi didn’t seem to understand, either. Clearly this was an arrangement that had been privately worked out between House Guillarno and the emperor. Londo cleared his throat and stood up from the desk. “Call it a show of good faith,” he said, smiling brightly at Lord Piro. “We’d hoped to discuss this with you at the banquet, but it appears that your nephew and the Lady Lishar have already taken matters into their own hands.”

“Majesty?” Piro’s suspicious gaze now focused on Londo, the crystal held tight in his palm. “Don’t tell me you’re actually encouraging this foolishness. What’s this about a sponsorship?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Lord Guillarno has been seeking a suitable match for his daughter for some time now. We made it worth his while to consider your nephew.” 

Londo extended a hand, but Piro rejected it. “While I appreciate what you have done for my daughter and for our family, we have no further need of your Majesty’s… charity,” he said, the last word delivered with a sneer of distaste. 

“This is no act of charity, Lord Piro,” said Londo, surprisingly eager to correct him. “It is a taste of things to come for your world, as per one of the many provisions of our proposal, of which we have every intention to fulfill.” He moved forward, circling around to stand in front of Piro. Ilyashi and Lishar had retreated to the couch and were now engaged in whispered conversation. How much Lishar knew about Londo’s plan was difficult to ascertain, but from what G’Kar had seen at the banquet, their brief courtship certainly hadn’t looked like charity. “Before the year is out, we will personally see to it that noble families from all of the core worlds—including Centauri Prime—will be earning our favour by extending their allegiances to Sayonis and the rest of the border colonies.”

In any other circumstance, that should have been enough. As Londo had made aggressively clear in his confrontation with Orestes, to question the word of the emperor was both crime and blasphemy. Lord Piro knew that. G’Kar could tell by the way his voice wavered as he said, “With all due respect, Majesty, ever since the Republic began retracting its borders, the history between Sayonis and the throne has been sullied by broken promises. As a man who appreciates his history, I trust your Majesty will forgive my reluctance to accept you at your word.”

“A little more than our word, hm?” Londo quirked a smile and gestured to the crystal that Piro still held, then quickly sobered. “We are not unsympathetic to your predicament. For too long, the Republic has neglected its obligations to its colonists. We wish to change that,” he said, pacing back towards the desk. “Coming at a time when we are asking so much of you, it is understandable why you find this hard to accept, but you must believe that we have no plans to remove your family from power.” He leaned against the wood, turning back to Piro with a self-deprecating smile. “The Sayonese have been a thorn in the side of the throne for generations. History has shown us that any attempt to diminish your claim to your world will result in failure and humiliation. You hail from a long line of proud and honourable lords, and despite years of struggle, you have served the Republic faithfully. For that, you have our respect and our gratitude. In return, we offer you the chance to sit down with the emperor of the Centauri Republic to ensure the future of your colony. As of today, the throne keeps its promises.” 

He slid behind the desk again and picked up a pen. “After all of this, if you have any reservations concerning the terms of the proposal, or our dedication to upholding them, we are willing to sit here with you—all night if need be—and go through every last provision until you are satisfied. Now, will you take a seat?”

It was as sincere as G’Kar had ever seen Londo over the span of his reign. Free of pretense, stipulations, or vague assurances, he made no attempt to hide his intentions. Rare as it was, G’Kar had learned to recognize it, and he could only hope that Lord Piro would, too. 

In the silence that followed, Ilyashi spoke up. “Please, uncle. You’ve always said this is exactly what we’ve needed on Sayonis. Less interbreeding between our families? We wouldn’t have to monitor our bloodlines, or send out so many of our own sisters and daughters to the other side of the Republic just to maintain our allegiances—” 

“Shut up!” Piro barked in Ilyashi’s direction. “Not another word out of you. The emperor and I are going to discuss this alone.” He waved toward the door.

Ilyashi winced, but offered no further argument. He took Lishar by the hand and stepped out into the hallway. Maridice followed after, leaving her father with a kiss on the cheek. 

“You heard the man,” said Londo, indicating that G’Kar should leave as well. “Don’t worry,” he added in English. “You will not be waiting long.”

After the door closed behind him, G’Kar spent the next few minutes listening. His back pressed to the wall, he registered the low din of a conversation that, at any moment, he expected to break into argument. It didn’t happen. Whatever negotiations were taking place, they were managing to do so with civility. After a while, he found himself wishing he’d brought his writing with him. 

Maridice and Lishar had disappeared around a corner to talk among themselves, leaving Ilyashi pacing up and down the hall. “Why are they taking so long?” he muttered to himself. 

“It’s been five minutes,” G’Kar replied, distracted by the repetitive clack of his boots over the floor. 

Ilyashi whirled around, trying, poorly, to mask his surprise at Centauri words coming from the mouth of a Narn—but he got the message. He ceased his pacing to lean against the wall opposite G’Kar. “I know, I know, it’s just… why does he have to be so stubborn?”

G’Kar rolled his eyes. “Which one?”

Something eased in Ilyashi’s posture. He cracked a smile, self-consciously averting his gaze from the door. “I’m sure you know the emperor’s mind better than I do, but what I don’t understand is what they even have left to disagree about.” 

“I’d say that’s exactly the problem.”

That was when Lishar and Maridice chose to emerge from their private conversation. Ilyashi brightened, but the only acknowledgement he got was a brief smile from Lishar as she guided Maridice over to G’Kar. “See? it’s not so difficult,” Lishar said over Maridice’s shoulder. “I’ll be right over there. Just tell him what you told me. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

“Wait, I’m not sure—“ Maridice bit her lip, but already, Lishar had returned to Ilyashi’s side and was coaxing him away for a ’short walk’. G’Kar cocked his head to the side. Maridice looked different—refreshed, younger, somehow, than she had appeared at the banquet. It took a moment before he realized that Lishar must have helped her remove the last of the powders and paints that had stained her cheeks. “I feel like I should thank you,” she said at last. “For helping me. Even if it was just to convince my father to go along with the emperor’s plans for our planet, I… I appreciate it.”

“You should be thanking the emperor,” he said diplomatically.

“My father has already thanked the emperor,” she pointed out. “But I wanted to thank you for talking to me, for trying to make it easier. I don’t know why, but it helped. If you hadn’t, I…” She tightened her shawl around her shoulders at the memory. “I don’t think I could have gone through with it.”

“We made the best out of a difficult circumstance,” said G’Kar, smiling to offset his discomfort. “But I’m glad you’re all right. Let’s hope your father doesn’t plan on marrying you to anyone else anytime soon.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. Maridice tried to hide it, but a little bit of light faded from her eyes all the same. She let the moment pass, glancing over her shoulder. Ilyashi and Lishar hadn’t yet returned. “Um, this might sound strange, but…” Her voice dipped to a whisper. “May I see your hands again?”

That wasn’t the sort of request he normally granted. Especially after the banquet, he’d had quite enough of being paraded about like some exotic spectacle. But considering what they’d almost been forced to do, he found it difficult to begrudge her curiosity. So for the second time that night, he bared himself to the wrists, offering himself for her inspection. G’Kar spread his hands in an open palmed gesture, as though they were meeting for the first time. The sentiment not lost on her, Maridice covered them with her own. It was easy to believe, in that moment, that everything was going to be all right. 

G’Kar had just finished re-buckling his gauntlets when he registered movement on the other side of the door—footsteps, voices, and… laughter? 

“No, I’m serious. Ask any human. They’ll tell you that it was _they_ who invented the game!”

“Great Maker, but we’ve been playing poker for thousands of years! Why, my great grandfather was said to—“

“Well, I’ll certainly have to join you for a game. Next time you’re on the homeworld, yes?”

When the door creaked open, Lord Piro stepped out, a great deal happier than when he’d entered. He tipped his head to Londo on his way out to greet Maridice and Ilyashi. Londo lingered in the doorway with a satisfied look on his face, and in his hand, the proposal rolled up neatly with a prim little bow. “Oh, and Piro? You should consider listening to your nephew from time to time. He has some good ideas.”

After bidding the delegates farewell and wishing them a peaceful return voyage, Londo led the way back through the palace toward the emperor’s wing. The halls were dark and quiet, save for the few stragglers from the banquet stumbling back to their suites. Londo paid them no mind, striding briskly ahead of G’Kar with the crackling intensity of a man fresh from a bar fight. G’Kar kept his distance until they were safely out of the guest wing. They entered a wide circular chamber at an intersection of corridors. There, under the moonlight shining through the glass-domed roof, Londo’s pace slowed to a trudge. He slumped against the statue that graced the centre of the room—a larger than life sculpture of Emperor Tuscano with his arms outstretched. The signed proposal still clenched in his hand, he took several deep breaths.

“Is everything all right?” G’Kar asked, with no attempt to hide the concern in his voice. He figured that both of them had played their roles long enough. Londo nodded slowly, steadying himself. “It’s over now. You did it,” G’Kar whispered. 

Londo glanced down to the rolled up document, his breath catching in a laugh. “And you doubted me.”

Ready to deny it, G’Kar stopped, studying the moonlit contours of Londo’s face. What he’d mistaken for fatigue he now recognized as the numb languor of relief. He returned Londo’s weary smile. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I know that… what I asked you to do tonight was difficult. I owe you a great deal.” Londo lifted his chin back toward the guest quarters. “So do they. But you will have to make do with my thanks.” He caught G’Kar’s hand and held it to his chest. 

Struck by the tenderness of the gesture, G’Kar found himself lost for words. “Mollari, I—“ he stammered before Londo dragged him into a kiss. Hot, heady, and so utterly unexpected, his lips parted on instinct. He felt Londo’s hands at his shoulders, his collar, then his jaw, pulling him forward when he tried to break for air. That they were still technically in public was the last coherent thought in his mind, and the one reason he didn’t yield to him right then and there. 

“That’s still ‘Majesty’ to you,” Londo said when they broke. “Do not forget, G’Kar, that you were the one who started this.” He traced a line with his thumb from G’Kar’s cheek to his chin. “But I’m not finished yet.”

G’Kar tilted his head up, still reeling from the kiss. Fumbling in darkness with the night sky overhead, it was easy to imagine they were back in one of Babylon 5’s observation domes—lamenting the past, fearing for the future, seizing the present like it was all they’d ever know. He pictured the chamber as it was in daylight, bustling with staff, courtiers, and guests, imagining the looks on their faces at the sight of their emperor locked in an embrace with his bodyguard. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation up his spine.

More than willing to play along, G’Kar idly fondled the buttons of Londo’s waistcoat. “What would you have of me, then… Majesty?” 

“Come.” Londo eased away from the statue and led G’Kar down a nearby hallway. 

They stopped at a room that was nowhere near the emperor’s suites. Londo opened the door to reveal a lavish drawing room painted floor to ceiling in violet. Portraits lined the walls, interspersed with mirrors and floral arrangements. The far side of the room offered a view out into the palace gardens. Knowing Londo’s tastes, this room likely served some ceremonial purpose. Half expecting him to pause their flirtation for a history lesson, G’Kar bent down to lay a kiss at his shoulder. To his dismay, Londo snarled at the touch. “You dare presume to touch us?” Then, in a low growl, “Perhaps you do not yet understand how this works, G’Kar. You serve at our pleasure—you will lay hands on us if and when we ask for it.” His eyebrows arched in challenge, spurring G’Kar to step back against the door, closing it in the process. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Majesty,” said G’Kar, trying, in vain, to bury his excitement at the prospect of that piercing blue gaze—usually reserved for insolent nobles—finally fixed on him. He lowered his eyes in what he hoped was an appropriate display of contrition. 

“You’ve been defiant,” Londo went on, slipping a knee between his legs, “willful in a manner unbefitting of a man of your station. Interrupting our meetings without leave, parading yourself in front of our guests…” He clicked his tongue. “It seems you could use a reminder, G’Kar, of exactly who you belong to. What shall we do to correct this, hm?” 

G’Kar nodded, only realizing that a spoken answer was demanded when Londo brushed a thigh over the front of his trousers. “Whatever your Majesty sees fit.”

Londo muffled a laugh against G’Kar’s collar. “Whatever we see fit? That’s rich, when we both know this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for all along,” he said in what might have been sincerity if not for his chiding tone. “Truly, there was no need for you to engage in such shameless disobedience simply to attract our attention. If this is what you want…” he whispered, his breath warm on G’Kar’s skin, “you could have easily asked, no?”

G’Kar resisted the urge to respond in kind, acknowledging him, instead, with a small noise from the back of his throat. Of course he could have asked, perhaps Londo would have even agreed, but Londo had never had patience for games involving the suspension of disbelief. Could he have assumed the part so effortlessly—gripped him so tightly, kissed him with such ardour—without an ember of spite underneath? At least, that was what G’Kar told himself as Londo’s teeth grazed the skin of his throat hard enough to bruise. 

When he reached the barrier of clothing, Londo shifted G’Kar’s jacket aside, mapping the gaps in his armour with lingering touches. He hadn’t been ordered to undress yet, but it wouldn’t be long now, judging from the occasional flutter of movement he registered as they stood chest to chest. Londo stared up at him, then glanced over his shoulder to the sitting area. 

“Sit down.” Londo gestured to a couch set with plush violet cushions, one side spiralling upwards into an intricately carved armrest. G’Kar did as he was bid without protest. He watched, enthralled, as Londo gently lowered himself to his knees on the lush patterned carpet. He knelt between G’Kar’s outstretched legs, fondling his cock through his trousers.

“Majesty, what are you…” he started, trailing off when Londo tugged down the fabric to reveal his cock, as he’d done before on countless occasions, though never with the royal pendant around his neck.

“Exactly what it looks like. However—” he bit the tip of his middle finger to peel off one glove, then the other—“you are to appreciate this as the gift and privilege that it is. You are to remain still, keep quiet, and, of course, keep your hands to yourself.” 

What would happen if he disobeyed? G’Kar wondered, but decided against it, irrationally convinced that any attempt to question Londo might somehow break the spell. He placed his hands on the couch, tilted his head back, and tried not to lift his hips at the first touch of Londo’s mouth. He started slowly, his lips closing around the tip, his tongue cradling the underside, which drew an appreciative exhale from G’Kar. His cock twitched involuntarily as Londo took him deeper, inch by inch, letting his teeth graze against the thick sheath. In one smooth motion, he’d taken him to the hilt with the overpracticed ease only a Centauri could boast. G’Kar dug his fingers into the cushions to keep from crying out. 

It was exquisite agony—the expectation to submit without reciprocation. The temptation to massage Londo’s shoulders, or brace a hand at the back of his scalp tested the limits of his restraint. But his endurance did not go unrewarded. G’Kar couldn’t remember the last time Londo had put this much effort into sex, coaxing pleasure from him, as opposed to letting G’Kar take it where he pleased. That wasn’t to say the passion was one sided—the heat of Londo’s cheeks bloomed bright against the white of his clothing as he brought G’Kar closer to the edge with every sweep of his tongue. 

The first tremors of release were almost upon him when Londo stopped, leaving his body thrumming, the air cool against his erection. Londo drew back to admire his handiwork, a smear of ejaculate on his lips. He must have noticed G’Kar staring, as he dabbed the spot with the tip of a finger. With a touch of satisfaction, he extended that hand to G’Kar. “Lust is no excuse to sully the flesh of your emperor. Clean up your spill.”

G’Kar’s eyes widened, not sure, for a moment, if he was serious. Londo smiled, but the order remained. 

G’Kar bit his lip, banishing his amusement. “Yes, Majesty,” he said, then dipped his head to lap at Londo’s fingertips. He made a show of it, though they no longer had an audience, locking eyes with Londo when he engulfed him up the first joint, then the second…

“All right, that’s enough.” Londo jerked back in apparent disgust, but didn’t refuse the hand G’Kar instinctively extended for leverage in rising to his feet. A subtle slip, but G’Kar wasn’t about to hold it against him. Especially not when Londo straightened up, stared down at G’Kar with cold contempt, and said what he’d been waiting to hear since they entered the violet room: “You may undress now.”

G’Kar shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it and the rest of his armour in a hasty pile on the floor. Once stripped to his shirt and trousers, he hesitated—suddenly conscious of the size of the windows and the fine upholstery on which he sat. He turned to Londo for confirmation and was struck to find him reclined on a nearby chair, divested of his jacket and waistcoat. The two halves of his shirt hung at his sides to reveal the tips of his brachiarti resting over the curve of his belly. One look from him was all it took for G’Kar to reach for his drawstring. 

“Now, if you will lay down on your back?” Londo asked in what might not have sounded like an order if G’Kar hadn’t been standing naked before him. The way Londo’s eyes raked over his body lent weight to his words, as did the hand he’d brought to absently stroke his uppermost brachiarte. G’Kar shifted his weight from side to side, a part of him wanting nothing more than to sink between Londo’s thighs right then and return the favour, but that was not what Londo asked. Londo gestured again to the couch, insisting. “Lay down, and open your legs.”

As ordered, G’Kar arranged himself atop the cushions, one leg hooked around the back of the couch, the other hanging over the edge. Sprawled on his back with his head against the armrest, he had to lean forward to catch a glimpse of Londo from his current position, though he was only few feet away. He reached for his cock, still achingly hard, then stopped—reminding himself that he was in good hands—and merely raised his hips in request. The anticipation, the vulnerability, the feeling of being utterly at another’s mercy echoed the thrill that had seized his heart when Londo had stepped between him and Orestes. Only now, Londo seemed to be enjoying giving himself over to the role as much as G’Kar did. 

The first brach slipped between G’Kar’s legs, tickling the inside of his knee, leaving a moist trail on its way to nestle between his outstretched thighs. G’Kar rolled his shoulders against the armrest, his breath hitching as the tip curled around the base of his cock. The pressure wavered when Londo let out a soft laugh. “There, you see? Patience has its rewards.” 

“Majesty, this is—” The brach coiled tighter around his length. 

“Not what you had in mind?” Londo raised an eyebrow, leaning back further in his seat. As close as G’Kar had ever seen him to fully extended, the brach he had wrapped around G’Kar spanned the distance between them with length to spare. The smooth muscle of the shaft undulated with an excitement all its own, while the tip sought out his most sensitive areas with conscious deliberation. If G’Kar reached out, he could have perhaps brushed Londo’s knee, but Londo seemed intent on maintaining the distance and taking advantage of it. 

G’Kar swallowed hard. “It is a little… impersonal, don’t you think, Majesty?”

“No less than you deserve,” Londo said. “If you are unwilling to comport yourself with even a modicum of self-respect, why should we grant you any in return?” As he spoke, two more brachiarti delivered themselves to his lips. G’Kar watched him take both of them into his mouth in turn, sucking until their tips were swollen and slick. 

G’Kar opened his mouth to protest, the urge to get a rise out of him, to push the limits of their little game, almost too much to resist. But at the urgent press of brachiarti at his cleft, all that came out was, “I live to serve you, Majesty.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Londo’s mouth. “Oh yes. How quickly you dropped to your knees yesterday, so ready you were to eat from the palm of our hand. You have never lacked for eagerness—only discretion. Do you think I didn’t notice, G’Kar? What excited you most out of this entire arrangement?”

The pulsing warmth of the brach teasing circles around his rim, G’Kar struggled to find the words to answer. He bit his lip, casting Londo a pleading look. 

“We both know you’ve never been content to remain in the background, G’Kar. Wherever you go, you always find a way to make yourself the centre of attention. You can’t get enough of it—the stares, the whispers, the knowledge that your presence at our side has made us the envy of all the nobles of the court.” Londo’s breath caught, as if stifling laughter, but his face was unreadable in the dim light. ”If it were up to you, you’d be on my arm at every audience, sharing kisses at every banquet, declare it to the entire Republic that you are our… our… gods…” Londo’s voice drained off in a sigh as he slipped into G’Kar, the most overt sign of pleasure he’d permitted himself thus far. G’Kar savoured that along with the warm pulse of the brachiarti inside him. 

Smooth, tapered, and flexible, there was no strain to the intrusion, his body well adjusted to their contours. G’Kar could have taken more than two, given sufficient preparation, but having restrained himself for so long, the extra stimulation flooded his heightened senses. G’Kar squeezed his eyes shut and gave himself over to the pleasure and, unexpectedly, yearning. _Gods_. That shuddering breath and the words that preceded it clawed at something deep in G’Kar, laid open a desire he hadn’t suppressed so much as twisted and remade into something more tangible. Raw and distasteful as it was, it was a compromise of sorts, the only natural outlet for the depth of devotion he felt against the unyielding wall of reality. What name would Londo have chosen for what lay between them? How would it sound falling casually from his lips? Would it feel like any less of a fantasy?

G’Kar let himself get carried away in the act, the world unraveling save for the caress of the cushions against his back and the brachiarti at work between his legs. He stirred at the brush of two more brachiarti across his stomach. Single-minded and sensitive, they roamed his torso until they reached the subtle fold of skin that marked the entrance to his pouch—usually unnoticeable in Narn who had never nursed. One of them unfurled and pressed flat against him, as if asking for permission. Londo himself had gone silent in the meantime. G’Kar stole a glance to find him applying his talented mouth to the remaining brach, his head tilted back, his face a rare vision of exquisite bliss. He’d passed that threshold G’Kar suspected existed among Centauri, the place where higher thought fled and all else was subordinated to the culmination of passion. The sight alone almost brought G’Kar over the brink, but he held out, stretched a hand beneath the taut skin, lifting it just enough to offer refuge. 

There was an oddly incorporeal quality to it—dexterous apparitions slinking from the shadows to dance within him, seeking only his pleasure, demanding nothing more than to coax whimpers from his throat. Utterly unlike sex as he knew it, where the focus was split between Londo’s satisfaction and his own, he could lose himself entirely, drown in his own desire. G’Kar didn’t need to see Londo’s face to know he was close. He could hear the desperation in his breath, feel the surge in every stroke. G’Kar’s body arched in answer, all of his most sensitive places ringing in unison. Londo was tending to the sixth himself, which could only mean one thing. As the last of his control evaporated, G’Kar cried out as loud as he dared. 

He was shaking when it was over. Blissfully numb, G’Kar barely felt it when Londo withdrew beyond an odd feeling of emptiness, of being drained out. He stared up at the high ceiling, dazzled by the intricate marble patterns and swirls of trim until he felt a weight settle at the unoccupied edge of the couch. G’Kar sat up and tucked in his legs to be closer to him. “Mollari?” he asked, his voice coming out a dry-mouthed rasp. 

Londo’s lips curved into a small smile to soften the return to familiarity. “Well, G’Kar? How did it feel to… to truly be mine for a night? Was it everything you hoped for?”

G’Kar gave a breathy laugh, then glanced down to the sticky mess on his stomach. He probably should have stood up to clean himself off and get dressed, but instead, he shifted further towards Londo, leaning against him ever so slightly. Usually it was Londo who craved contact after sex, laying his head on G’Kar’s chest, listening to his heartbeat while he waited for his own to level out. Never so much did he understand the urge. But this time, Londo barely gave a grunt of acknowledgment when G’Kar laid a hand to his thigh.

“What you said about—” G’Kar started, then hesitated, blinking away images of balls and banquets, and the two of them—“about conducting ourselves in the open.“

Londo’s eyes widened momentarily. He sank back against the cushions, for once paying no mind to the state of the doubtlessly priceless furniture beneath their spent bodies. “Yes, that would be something now, wouldn’t it?” He sounded exhausted, or, perhaps, wistful. 

G’Kar nodded. He knew exactly how this conversation would end, but after a whole evening of holding his tongue, something compelled him to speak his mind. ”Can you imagine it, Mollari? Saying whatever we like, touching whenever we please, without the need to lie or pretend—”

“I can!” Londo turned to face him, then lowered his eyes. “I do. Every day, G’Kar, I…” 

As the silence dragged out, G’Kar braced himself for the well worn lecture about the unspoken rules of the court, the inertia of change, and the importance of keeping up appearances. It didn’t come. Londo sat quietly, adjusting the chain of the royal seal around his neck. It was a heavy, pendulous thing, not designed to be worn over bare skin, judging by the reddened groove it had chafed into the sensitive flesh of his collar. “Isn’t it strange, G’Kar? How one may be granted the power to change the fates of people hundreds of light years away, and yet be brought down with a whisper?”

For once, there was no judgment in his tone, no reproach, only a weary resignation that dampened G’Kar’s will to argue. “And that is exactly the reason I chose to reject that power when it was offered to me.” He squeezed Londo’s thigh again. “Among other things,” he added. 

The corners of Londo’s mouth crinkled into something that was almost a smile. Finally, he gave in and tucked an arm around G’Kar’s waist. Starved for touch as he was, G’Kar couldn’t resist deepening the embrace. He wanted to kiss the damp skin at his temples, soothe the marks on his neck. He nuzzled the crook of Londo’s shoulder, his lips brushing along Londo’s jawline. Apparently Londo was feeling equally deprived; G’Kar could feel the tension ease from his posture, the last of the facade releasing its hold on him. 

“I wish it were otherwise,” Londo was saying as G’Kar worked his way upward. “You know I do, more than anything,” he rambled in between fleeting kisses. “And someday… someday, G’Kar—“

Before he could get another word out, G’Kar covered his mouth with his own. Londo’s excuses faded into a deep groan that G’Kar felt as a soft vibration on his tongue. He prolonged it as long as he could, and it wasn’t until Londo’s grip tightened around his waist that his need was sated. 

“Someday,” G’Kar repeated when they broke, tasting the word off his lips. “Do you remember what we talked about last night, Mollari? What I told you? That ’someday’ may not come soon enough for us.”

“No, no, it cannot be, and we cannot think that way. We must believe…” He trailed off, his reassurance sounding half-hearted, perhaps even to his own ears. His expression hardened. “That will not happen, I promise you, G’Kar.”

“While we both still breathe?” The question came out higher than he meant it.

“I do,” Londo said, firm. He reached up to cup the back of G’Kar’s scalp, pulling him in closer. “Don't you remember? From now on, the throne keeps its promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the plot resolved, the proposal signed, Londo bids the delegates farewell. Afterwards, Londo is filled with relief and nervous energy and G’Kar is kinda turned on by the way Londo asserted himself as the banquet. They duck into an empty room and have explicitly emperor/servant themed sex.


End file.
